


There's a War Going On

by irreplaceable_ecstacy



Category: Natasha Pierre and the Great Comet of 1812 - Malloy
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Also a lot of fluff with my girls, Alternate Universe - High School, Andrey isn't here again, Balaga is everyone's emergency uber driver, Child Abuse, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Enemies to Lovers kind of relationship, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Marya's fierce but is an actual softie, Physical Abuse, There's a lot of angst in here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2020-12-27 13:58:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 39,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21119942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irreplaceable_ecstacy/pseuds/irreplaceable_ecstacy
Summary: High School! AUHélène was perfect. She was trained to be as a Kuragin was suppose to be. Her mother had shaped her into a flawless marble sculpture, taught her to never show her emotions but that pearly white smile. The way she moved and spoke was almost robotic, always structured for her pretty face.Marya, on the other hand, was independent. Having shaped herself to be a grown woman, she achieved many things and that included the reputation of being the high school's infamous Terrible Dragon and head prefect. She hated perfection, in other words, she despised Hélène for the way she was.There were many things that his behind Hélène's mask but Marya couldn't care less. With a reputation such as Hélène's, who would've suspected nightmares behind the facade?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, gang! I would like to apologize if any characters are ooc, i'm trying my best! Here, i present to you, a book of angst and fluff.   
Warning: Child abuse is mentioned in this chapter!
> 
> Do leave comments and kudos, thank you, love you all~

"Late again, Kuragin?"

Marya Dmitrievna glared at the girl before her, a notebook in hand and a pen in the other. She tapped the corner of her book with her pen in frustration as she watched Hélène Kuragin sway rather gracefully with a small innocent small stretching along her lips. If that stupid smile didn't irritate Marya, it was how underdressed she was. The younger girl wore a white tank top that clung to her body, showing off the delicate curves of her body, and shorts that hiked a little too high up her thighs. Whoever it was Hélène was trying to impress, it certainly wasn't Marya but as the head prefect, she was more than happy to record two violations in one morning in her notebook. As Marya grasped both ends of her book to open it, Hélène placed a hand over the cover, suddenly closer to Marya in a swift stride.

"C'mon, mon cherie. Can't you just let a girl get on with her life?" Hélène asked as she tilted her head slightly.

Marya snorted at her. "The only life I care about is mine and because of you, I've already wasted 5 minutes of it and my history class. So-" She pushed the slender hand off of her book and snapped it open- "That's two violations. Underdressed and late for the 5th time this month."

"Well, I wasn't aware of the requirements of our dress code. To be precise, I wasn't even aware that we had a dress code," Hélène murmured with a small pout. "Can the dress code slide this once? I'll let you jot down my awful punctuality but I promise I'll change the clothes."

Marya side-eyed Hélène with the same glare she had greeted her with but Hélène only responded with the batting of her eyeslashes. How this girl was so carefree, Marya didn't know and she didn't want to. She looked at her notebook and jotted down the violation, just the punctuality, before closing the book. She waved a dismissal hand at the other with a scoff when Hélène let out a small triumphant giggle. This wasn't going to happen again. If Marya had to write down 10 different violations from Hélène, she would do it without a moment's hesitation. This was an exception only because she was running late for a history test. 'Shit. I'm late-' Marya thought as she snapped out of her inner thoughts in a sudden flurry of panic.

Hélène skipped past her, brushing a hand along Marya's cheek that made her freeze. Not that it meant anything, but the audacity of that girl! She stood there as Hélène skipped off and waved a happy goodbye to her.

"Thank you, ma cherie~! I owe you one." She winked at Marya then took off running to her class.

Marya heaved the largest sigh of relief and pressed her palm to her forehead. "Thank God, she's gone," she muttered under her breath to no one in particular, raising her hands in the air as if she were actually thanking God.

At least Hélène cared about making it to class on time. Pocketing her notebook, she started to walk when she heard a footsteps rushing behind her and a familiar voice cursing at himself. Pierre Besukhov burst through the double doors of the school with a loud groan and bent over to take several deep breaths. Marya spun around to greet her friend and pulled her notebook out, already working on jotting down his violation. Pierre looked unbothered by it, still managing to offer her a small wave of a greeting. Marya chuckled softly and folded her arms over her chest, an amused look upon her features.

Pierre looked at her with his nose scrunched up in a grimace for the laugh then threw his hands up in the air. He tried to explain himself but his panting was all Marya could hear, save for some of the words that she had managed to catch such as 'bus' and 'delay' and 'running'. She went over to his side and wrapped an arm around him to steady him then led her down the hallway to their class, as slowly as Pierre needed to catch his breath. It was obvious this boy wasn't built for sports or anything athletic. He could walk up a flight of stairs and be on his knees, gasping for breath. It was troublesome and very frustrating for it was what delayed him from being punctual but he was grateful for Marya for tolerating with his punctuality.

"I'm sorry for being so terribly late, Marya. That stupid bus took off 10 minutes too early and I didn't want to wait for the next one. I couldn't! If I had, I would've missed the history test," Pierre wheezed as he clutched his bag close to his chest.

"It's fine, old friend... Haven't you gotten your driver's license?" Marya asked as she glanced at Pierre while they walked up the stairs.

"I have but my dad doesn't trust me with the car. They'd rather have me take the bus or taxi. Anything that doesn't put our car at risk," he responded with a dry laugh.

"I see..." she murmured

Pierre looked up at Marya, scrutinizing her expression. "Bad morning?"

"Head prefect duties, specifically. If it weren't for_ her_, I would have been in class 10 minutes ago," Marya hissed.

"Rant to me later?" Pierre offered with his kind smile.

"Yes, please," Marya groaned gratefully.

Entering the classroom, they murmured rapid apologies to their teacher and took their seats. Andrei Bolkonski, who was seated in the far back of the class, exchanged greetings and nods with his friends and that was it before the class was silent again. A very deafening silence.

* * *

"Ran into the dragon, didn't you?" Fedya Dolokhov asked as he bit into his apple, grinning widely at Hélène who flicked a cornflake at him.

"Sure did. You'd be surprise, Fedya. She let me go," Hélène told him proudly.

Anatole gaped at her. "She let you go? She stopped me from going to class because of my hair...? For some reason."

"A pity, dear brother. Sometimes, you need to use my charms," Hélène teased and elbowed Anatole in the ribs very lightly.

"Sister, I believe females and males use their charms differently due to their biological... differences. I'd be called mad if I were to flaunt the way you do with your feminine features," Anatole said and gestured to her chest.

Hélène folded her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes with a soft scoff. She wasn't denying the whole flaunting bit but to call her out like that was humiliating. Her obnoxious younger brother, he surely was doing a great job with the obnoxious part. Subconsciously, she leaned into Dolokhov upon feeling his arm wrap around her shoulder and he pulled her close to him, hand rubbing along her forearm. She heard a laugh bubble up his chest and looked up at him. He was smirking at Anatole with a thoughtful look and by the way his nose crinkled, he was holding in his laughter the best he could. Raising a finger, he pointed it at Anatole and waggled it.

"If you do flaunt like she does, you might end up attracting a minority. You never know 'til you try," Dolokhov said and burst into laughter, Hélène joining him in amusement.

Anatole flushed a deep shade of red and huffed. "I do not intend to try it nor imagine it, Fedya. You despicable human being - "

"Now that would be a sight to behold," Hélène explained in between laughs.

"And with a blush like that, you're probably imagining it," Dolokhov pressed on.

"Haha- Funny, you two. Marvellous jesters," Anatole grumbled and applauded slowly.

Dolokov and Hélène laughed harder, doubling over with their hands clutching their stomach. Anatole could only sit and watch as they laughed at him but joined in when he started to find their laughing ridiculous. Their laughter sounded in the noise of the cafeteria, blending in with the usual haze of sounds that filled the place. It was a lively room and everyone was alive for that period of the day as they united with their gang of friends and gossiped away.

All but one table blended in with the liveliness of the room and that was where the Terrible Dragon, Marya, and Pierre sat with three others. Mary and Sonya Rostova, two bubbly cousins, and Mary Bolkonski, the phantom of the group. Marya stabbed her meatloaf with her fork repeatedly at each laugh from the Kuragins, the devilish sounds provoking her inner dragon. She could compare their laughter to nails on a chalkboard and see no difference, especially Hélène’s ear-piercing shrieks of laughter. Pierre and Mary watched the fork as it dug into the pile of mush, lifted then descended again. Natasha and Sonya were too busy giggling among themselves to notice their seniors and the meatloaf or even notice the loud laughter from the Kuragins and Dolokhov. Marya’s meatloaf was soon reduced into what looked like an awful faux mashed potato, and that was when Pierre snatched the fork out of Marya’s grip. The sight of the meatloaf was revolting, he could not stand the way it squelched and flatten so he just had to put an end to it. He placed the fork beside the plate and exhaled sharply, matching the glare Marya shot at him.

“Would you please stop obsessing over the Kuragins? Yes, they have quite the reputation and they’re howling in laughter, but you should put them out of your head,” Pierre cried out and threw his arms in the air.

“I am not obsessing over them, Pierre. They give me a headache. I shouldn’t have let that Hélène off this morning. I should’ve given her something to dread about,” Marya muttered through gritted teeth.

“They’re headaches to everyone but no one is talking about them. Be a dear and get on with life like I have,” Pierre said and clapped his hands together.

“How could I simply dump them out of my head? They’re right there,” Marya scoffed.

“By simply dumping it! It’s not as hard as you think,” Pierre interjected.

“Do you hear how loud they are? Anatole and his feminine voice. Hélène and that banshee of a laugh. I’m not so bothered by Fedya, I’ll let him off the hook. But those two, they’re worse than any villain I’ve known from films. They could be the twins from the Shining,” Marya rambled.

“Marya, do you hear yourself?” Pierre asked and rubbed his forehead. “Ignore them and move along with life. Easy as that.”

“Pierre’s right, Marya. Don’t let anyone get in your way of life like that,” Natasha piped up, the conversation having caught her attention.

“Now, Natasha, it isn’t good to eavesdrop and cut in like that,” Marya warned.

“Sorry, Marya but it’s true. I’m just trying to help Pierre out here,” Natasha said as she placed a hand over the male’s shoulder.

“I appreciate your help, Natasha. Your friend really needs to listen to others, if not one, a group of us,” Pierre stated and smiled.

“And now you’re ganging up on me, how lovely,” Marya laughed.

“A laugh! Finally,” Pierre exclaimed and leaned into his seat.

Marya kicked his ankle gently under their lunch table and rolled her eyes. The thought of the Kuragins did slip from her head but their laughter still rang in her ears. However, it bothered her less than it did before. Pushing away the plate with her ruined meatloaf, she rested her head on her hands and groaned. The thoughts of the Kuragins slipped but not of the incident that happened this morning. And just like that, her awful mood from before returned in a second. Pierre noticed the way her shoulders tense and reached a hand out to pat her back.

“Okay… Fine. Let it out if you can’t keep it in,” Pierre murmured in defeat.

Marya perked up and grinned.” Good! So, if you want to know what happened this morning and the whole pardoning with Hélène, it’s because of her smile.”

“Her smile?” Sonya asked and everyone gave a face.

“Not in that way! Absolutely not and never. As I was saying, she smiled at everything I said, no matter how I scolded, she kept smiling. It’s inhuman of someone to smile while they’re being scolded, is it not? She takes pleasure in that scolding, it seems. I can’t be too sure but I don’t like it one bit. It’s very threatening,” Marya continued and folded her arms over her chest.

“You don’t like anything about her, that’s clear,” Pierre mumbled, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“I’m glad you understand the context,” Marya interjected sarcastically.

“Look, that’s just the way she is. She smiles at everything, everywhere and any time. To be specific, she’s very composed. She was trained to carry herself properly since young, Anatole too. It’s all in the family,” Pierre explained.

“So, I’ve heard!” Natasha exclaimed. “I’ve heard this from Anatole. He’s told me about his family once, of how they were taught to behave and to make sure they don’t dishonour their family name. Awfully odd considering we’re not in the Victorian Era or something but, it’s just them.”

“We can’t judge them for being like them. We’re all headaches in our own way,” Pierre told Marya.

“If smiling is proper and composed, consider me neither,” Marya stated. “What I see is a fake bitch, talking in terms of our era. Now, I have to go, dears. I’ve got some things to do.”

“Don’t you always?” Pierre grumbled.

“Okay then… We’ll see you later, Marya. Come, Sonya, Mary. We have geography,” Natasha said hastily as she picked up her empty plate and bag.

“Finally,” Mary whispered as she stood up, picking up her belongings.

The three girls darted off after a small goodbye, and Marya and Pierre were left to clear their empty plates. Pierre tugged at the straps of his bag and gnawed on the insides of his cheeks, glancing in between Marya and the ground. Marya discarded her plate along with Pierre’s and they walked out of the cafeteria in silence.

* * *

Pierre had left her for algebra classes not long after they exited the cafeteria with a quiet goodbye. Marya strolled down the hallways and kicked at the ground as she walked. She emptied her mind, or at least tried to. She was a worrier and she hated to admit it. Pierre was always there to help her out with all these stresses but with an attitude as stubborn as hers, talking to her was like talking to a wall. She wished to change for the better but this was how she learnt to live independently. If not live, survive. It was how she became head prefect, it was how she earned her reputation of the Terrible Dragon and she wasn’t going to let her efforts go to waste.

She drowned herself in her thoughts, evaluating them carefully. She did this often, like mentioned earlier she was a worrier. Thinking to herself, she found herself absorbed into her own mind. Too absorbed, she almost missed two figures with a very unholy distance between them. Bodies pressed up together and that unholy distance was a non-existent gap. Snapping her head up to look at them, she stormed towards them. Who she saw, she wasn’t a bit surprised.

“Kuragin!!!”

A loud groan slid past Hélène’s lips as she turned to greet Marya with a lopsided smile. She waved a hand, or rather a bottle at Marya and let out a low giggle. The person pressed up against her was Dolokhov and he moved off of her to lean against the wall behind Hélène. His arm rested around her waist, hand flattened against her stomach and his head on her shoulder. Marya maintained a 2 feet distance between herself and the couple, her face a light red in anger. She knew that they weren’t dating for every week she would see Hélène with a different boy and it was a wonder whether she had dated all the boys in their small school, if that was even possible.

“What is the meaning of this?” Marya demanded and gestured to them.

“Intimacy?” Hélène chortled.

“That, and drinking in school,” Marya added and moved to snatch the bottle, finding it empty.

“I needed it. Numbs the stress,” Hélène explained with a shrug.

Hélène gave Dolokhov a brief kiss and patted his chest, a motion of excusing him. With a proud smirk, he saluted to Marya and skipped away from the scene with clean hands. Marya did nothing to stop him, her attention on the younger girl who was stretching herself out against the wall. She closed the distance and raised a finger to Hélène’s chin in a threatening manner but was greeted with the smile she hated and it stretched into a drunken grin.

“What are you going to do, ma cherie?” Hélène asked and chuckled.

“Your French is even worse when you’re drunk,” Marya sneered and jabbed at her shoulder.

“Would you prefer my Russian?” she argued.

“I’d rather not. Thank you,” Marya muttered dismissively.

“très bien, ma cher. So, are you going to waste my life or…” Hélène’s voice trailed off and she jabbed at Marya’s shoulder.

“No, but I will have you reported to make things quicker.” And her notebook was in her hand. “I’m not letting you off this time.”

“Merveilleuse…Go ahead, ma’am. I ain’t stopping you now,” Hélène murmured and smiled widely, patting the top of the notebook.

Marya raised her pen and clicked it, eyes narrowed as she wrote down the date then stopped there. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, sucking another breath in through gritted teeth. Was there not going to be a challenge? No bribing, no argument, no begging to spare her for this one? Lowering the notebook, Hélène still smile at Marya but the smile had shrunk into what was almost genuine. Marya wanted to sink into the floor and disappear right there. She couldn’t do it…again! That smile was enchanting and manipulative, which explained why she never got in trouble. That smile probably got her out of detention and risks of expulsion; her survival tool, much like Marya’s own fiery attitude.

“Are you just going to stare?” Marya asked.

“What more can a drunk girl do?” Hélène returned the question.

Defeat. “True…”

Everything ended there. Her notebook snapped shut with the written report and Marya pardoned Hélène for the second time of the day, weakened by Hélène’s passive attitude and smile. This was getting stupid but there was no way to win the battles she stirred up with the French girl. When it came to passive arguments, Marya couldn’t win them. Only when she threw offenses to weaken the other, she achieved victory easily. This gave her more reason to despise Hélène Kuragin. To lose to girl such as her was embarrassing and she wanted to change that, somehow.

Hélène didn’t know how to feel about being pardoned twice in one day. Trouble was something she ran into often and this feeling was alien to her. To be free from the dreadful disciplinary council and the principal. Freedom tasted bittersweet. In her drunken state, she managed her way back to her classroom, leaning against the wall for support. The day was nearing to an end and she hoped the alcohol lasted until then.

* * *

Returning home, the Kuragins entered their excessively large house in cautious silence, afraid of catching the attention of their father, Vassily Kuragin. The master of the house. He was a frightening man, and it was him who carved his children into perfection. Ever since his wife passed away, he aimed for nothing but the flawlessness of his family. He didn’t care for the youngest of the family, Ippolit Kuragin, but his focus of the older two was beyond anything. It was more of torture than care, and it made the older Kuragin siblings fearful of their father.

Anatole closed the door behind him slowly, trying to avoid making the slightest noise, while Hélène put their things aside. They bit their lips tightly, controlled their breathing and they walked on the tip of their toes, shoes in hand. Unfortunately, with how tipsy Hélène was, her efforts of being stealthy went to waste. She stumbled over a fold of the carpet and fell on her knees with a loud thud. She winced at the sound, and Anatole let out a gasp. Anatole bent down to pick his sister up but she struggled to get up on her own two feet steadily. Just as she could take a step forward, a figure loomed over them from behind, causing them to spin around to meet their father face to face. He was red in the face, almost a deep shade of crimson, as he stared at his children. The youngest was nowhere to be seen but Hélène assumed he was cooped up safely in his room. Standing there, Vassily glared at Hélène who returned the expression while Anatole stood beside her quivering in fear.

“Trying to sneak in, I see?” Vassily began. “I’m sure you’re aware that you’re in trouble, Elena.”

“It’s Hélène,” she corrected gruffly. “Now, what do you want of me, old man?”

“Don’t act stupid! You know your mistake. Didn’t you mother ever taught you to never steal?” the man bellowed, advancing towards Hélène.

Out of instinct, Hélène stood in front of Anatole, pushing the boy behind her before gesturing for him to go to his room. She wasn’t going to risk his safety, not for her mistake. Raising a hand, Vassily’s hand slapped her across the face, and she stumbled to the side a little from the impact. Her face stung but the alcohol in her veins numbed every pain receptor, converting the pain into an unsettling burning sensation.

“You steal my vodka again, and I’ll break you into a cripple,” Vassily growled as he grabbed the girl by the hair, dragging her into his room.

He slammed the door shut and locked it. He didn’t want any of the boys bursting into his room to fight for their sister. It had happened before and it resulted with bruises and blood from all four of them. They had put up a good fight but it was a horrible sight to witness a family beat one another up. With the doors shut, Anatole had exited his room with hopelessness to help his sister. He could fight but it would only risk getting his sister into a beating worse than what she was receiving now. Heavy-heartedly, he returned to his room and closed the door, locking it to keep out the horrors of his father.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marya's mind is not at rest. She's too much of a worrier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, gang! And, another chapter! I'll try to update as quickly as I can but, not this week. I've got exams next week so some chapters might be delayed but I promise more! Don't worry, patience!
> 
> Feel free to leave comments for suggestions or anything really! Thanks, gang!

Hélène woke up to the sting of pain all over her body but it stung the most along her jaw, bruises littering her small frame. A headache lingered and she couldn’t muster the strength to get up. The cool marble floor of her room burnt against her hot cheek, stained in her own blood that had dripped from her nose, now dried from the hours that had passed since it started. She couldn’t remember how she managed to drag herself to her room, or whether it was her who had pushed herself to use every last bit of strength to lock herself safely in her room. Whatever happened, she didn’t want to think about it, not that the headache let her. The more she tried to think, the more painful it grew. She contemplated getting up and slumping onto the bed but her arms refused to move. Her heavy-lidded eyes stared at nothing, and she unable to focus on anything but the blur of what looked like her discarded schoolbag.

“Lena???”

Anatole’s call made her jump and she cursed under her breath from the jolt of pain that rocketed up her body. Closing her eyes, she bit her lips tightly together and balled her hands into fists, trying to endure every jolt of pain that would shoot up along her body whenever she tensed a muscle. Anatole called out again but Hélène was drained. She had no energy to move her lips to answer or to move, so she laid on the ground with closed eyes. She could hear the desperation growing in Anatole’s voice for an answer and he had begun pounding on the door after calling out to her several more times. Met with silence, he sighed and gave one final knock with his forehead.

“Lena… Father’s gone out. If you’re in there or awake or whatever, Ippolit’s here to take care of the house so, you have nothing to worry about. I’ll tell Pierre that you’re ill. I guess I’ll see you later,” Anatole murmured quietly.

His footsteps faded out of Hélène’s earshot and she found herself slipping back into unconsciousness. Soon, the house was silent. After Anatole closed the front door, the house became lifeless. Hélène laid stiffly on the floor, knocked out cold. She wondered if anyone worried for her. Would anyone wonder if she was actually ill when Anatole were to tell them that she was? Was there going to be someone who cared? The questions didn’t bother her any longer now that she was unconscious and the pain subsided.

* * *

A week went by swiftly. Hélène hadn’t shown up to school with the same explanation from Anatole that she was terribly ill. The explanation was convincing at first but now that it had been a week, some people started to question Anatole if she had been contracted with a threatening disease or that she might be skipping school. The boy was a good liar, it was the way of a Kuragin. He lied with a straight face, looked at those who questioned him straight in the eyes, allowing no further interrogation. He convinced many that Hélène wasn’t skipping school or contracted with any life-threatening disease of sort. Pierre was one of the many people who went to Anatole with questions about Hélène but the boy answered the same, only more convincing the more Pierre asked. Natasha and Sonya came round to ask several times, worried for Hélène’s sudden absence, Dolokhov and Andrei too. All but Marya, of course. It wasn’t the fact that she didn’t care. She didn’t want to show that she gave a crap about the Kuragins, after all, all she did was complain about them daily.

Pierre was the one she turned to for the answers to her burning questions. It was always the same repetitive questions, ‘Is she here?’ or ‘Why isn’t she here, again?’ And Pierre would answer her word-for-word of the answers Anatole gave him. The answers would have sufficed if it weren’t for the visible distress Anatole was in as the days went by. It was already the 8th day, and that Kuragin girl was still absent. Dolokhov and Andrei stopped asking, having grown bored of the same answers. Natasha and Sonya continued to ask but their questions turned into ‘When is she coming back?’ and ‘Is she close to recovery?’ If Anatole was feeling frustrated, he didn’t show it. He was ready with his answers for the waves of questioning, steady and careful with his responses. It wasn’t the best week for him but he was coping much better than anyone expected him to be with his supposedly very ill sister.

At the cafeteria, Pierre, Marya, Natasha and Sonya sat in silence, not having much to converse about. Mary was occupied with extra classes so she didn’t show up. Every minute, Natasha would look up to study her friends’ expressions then look down at her empty plate. Sonya, on the other hand, had her eyes fixated on the wall behind Marya, unmoving. Pierre ate his food slowly to kill some time, nearly halfway with his second and last tuna sandwich, and Marya was scowling at the empty chair at the table where Dolokhov and Anatole sat. It was quieter without that group’s piercing laughter and it was odd to her.

“Why isn’t _she_ here, again?” Marya asked almost mechanically in a subconscious state of mind.

Pierre almost choked on his sandwich, coughing out his answer as Natasha patted his back. “She’s still ill, Marya. Recovering slowly, apparently.”

“And that’s what alcohol does to your metabolism, kids,” Marya muttered to Sonya and Natasha.

“Marya, you’ve been asking the same question for 8 days now,” Natasha interjected with a change of subject.

“So what if I have?” Marya responded. “I’m curious of Hélène’s sudden disappearance.”

“Curious or do you actually care?” Natasha asked.

Marya laughed sarcastically. “Dear Natasha, there is no way, not a day in my life when I have ever cared for that female creature and there will never.”

“Harsh,” Pierre commented and ate up his sandwich.

“Too harsh,” Sonya added and nodded towards Pierre.

“Oh, would the lot of you not dive too deep into your assumptions?” Marya spoke up. “It’s not like I need to be fond of her to ask about her.”

“It’s not common, that’s it,” Pierre told her and shrugged.

“I have my rights to ask whatever I want, Pierre,” Marya hummed and ran a hand through her locks of red hair.

“By 'not common', I think he means asking the same questions for 8 days,” Natasha said and leaned back into her chair.

Marya huffed like a child and slid off her chair slightly. She rubbed her face in her hands and rested them there to hide the embarrassment in her expression. Was it so hard to ask questions about one human being? It didn’t happen when Marya once asked a hundred questions about Natasha’s absence nor did it happen when she dumped a load of questions on Natasha when Pierre was missing for an hour. She had to admit, they were a weird bunch, always asking each other irrelevant questions whenever they were bored. Maybe this was to keep up with the conversation, **_maybe! _**

The table had gone silent and that was when Marya decided to move her hands back to her sides and sit upright. Pierre and Natasha were whispering among themselves, smiles plastered on their lips, and Sonya listened. The three of them dispersed from their conversation to look at Marya.

“So, we decided an outing to put your mind off of these questions,” Natasha informed her excitedly. “You really are a worrier, Marya, so… Maybe an outing will do.”

“An outing. How will that help?” Marya asked and tilted her head.

“A day out with your friends. Don’t know where yet but we’ll be there to distract you. That’s the aim,” Pierre explained and nodded towards Natasha.

“Anywhere of your choice. Anywhere that does not remind you of any of your worries,” Natasha chimed in.

“Tough choice,” Marya mumbled and rubbed her chin in thought.

That got her gears working, her mind elsewhere as she thought of a place for their outing. Secretly, Pierre, Sonya and Natasha shared a high-five beneath the table and exchanged proud grins. The plan worked faster than they had thought but that was a good thing. She had plenty of time to think but Natasha knew how quick of a thinker Marya was. Getting up, she slung her schoolbag over her shoulder and grasped Sonya’s wrist, tugging at it. She had a plan to get her thinking all day but that would require dismissing their meeting. Natasha nudged Pierre with her foot and he followed her, rushing to his feet. Marya paused her train of thought to look up at the three of them as they grabbed their things hastily, opening her mouth to question.

“Take all the time you need, Marya. You have the whole day to think. When you come up with a place, text us in our group chat,” Natasha interrupted before Marya could speak.

“Take your time,” Pierre repeated, only paraphrased.

“We’re in no rush. School ends at 12 today, we have the rest of the day,” Sonya added with a small smile.

“I’ll uh… Keep that in mind,” Marya murmured, suspecting nothing.

The three of them flashed an almost similar smile then trotted off, and out of the cafeteria. Now, Marya was alone, left in her own thoughts. It wasn’t like her friends to leave her in her own thoughts but she assumed that they were giving her some space for a moment’s thoughts. For about half an hour, she sat there on the bench thinking, her mind focused on that one question. The thoughts that had plagued her mind for the entire week was gone, chucked at the back of her head and labelled under ‘_pending_’. It was good, good that she wasn’t dwelling in her stress.

* * *

**Marya D: **I've picked out a place. Ain’t much fun really but it’s relaxing.

**Natasha: **Where???

**Marya D: **The park. The one opposite my apartment.

**Pierre: **Honestly, that sounds like the right place for you. You did mention that you love walking there when you need a breather

**Natasha: **Perfect! What time?

**Sonya: **Not free. Have a project. L

**Natasha: **That’s unfair!

**Sonya: **You have the same one! We’re literally in the same class, like, right now?! You’re next to me!

**Pierre: **How about 4? You’ll have time to do some of it.

**Sonya: **I’ll try.

**Marya D: **Are you girls texting in class?

**Pierre: **Oop-

**Natasha: **Back to the topic… So, 4 in the evening?

**Marya D: **It’s settled. Now, get back to work.

**Natasha: **Sorry! And alright! I’ll be there. See you guys there!

**Pierre: **See you there.

* * *

The three went, Natasha, Pierre and Marya. Sonya joined not long after, only a little late but hadn’t missed much of the meeting. The four of them joked and laughed, leaving no room for a conversation about school or their problems. Natasha forbade any negative talk and cursing, in which Marya found almost too difficult to obey. A curse word or two would slide past her lips and she would slap a hand over her mouth then apologize. Not being the best at scolding others, Natasha would only laugh out loud then give a reminder, not a warning. Sonya and Pierre had no issue with the ‘no cursing’ rule as they were considerably the calmest ones of the group, unless someone were to provoke Pierre or upset Sonya; that was a whole other story. They shared stories, played games and rolled around in the grass like children. Natasha’s bubbly attitude was contagious and it was hard to say no to the sweet girl.

They even brought snacks to share, Marya having brought the most which answered everyone’s questions as to why her bag looked like it was about to explode. She ensured that everyone was fed properly and that they were hydrated, being the mom figure of the group. She brought a flask with hot tea and four plastic cups. To Pierre, this was hilarious and he joked about how it was as though she packed up a whole kitchen in her bag. Natasha and Sonya were as grateful as ever, thanking Marya for every snack she brought.

The younger girls sipped their tea and chatted away on a mat that Marya had brought to share as they sat on the field of grass. There were families with their children at the park, a few couples, young and old, a few street performers. Everyone was absorbed in their own bubble of fun, even Marya was. The redhead stood on a bridge that stretched over a running stream, Pierre by her side. She tossed pieces of bread to the ducks that wadded in the water, amused by how they chased the bread down the stream, only to return to the same spot where Marya would throw more bread. Pierre watched with a smile, chuckling whenever the ducks pursued the bread. Tossing the last bit of bread over, Marya rested her head on her hand and let out a long contented sigh.

“This outing isn’t so bad,” she hummed and smiled up at Pierre.

“Told you it would do you good,” Pierre murmured and patted Marya’s back lightly. “Taking some time off for yourself never hurts.”

“Thank you for your concern and for your thoughtfulness. Yours, Sonya’s and dear Natasha’s. It’s comforting knowing I have people who look out for me,” Marya admitted.

“It’s the most we can do since you’re the one who’s always parenting us,” Pierre laughed, ducking when Marya raised a hand jokingly as if to slap him.

Marya laughed with him and shook her head. “You guys really didn’t need to.”

“But we did anyway. Our plan was a success.”

“Sure is.”

Marya relaxed, her shoulders slumping slightly. She hadn’t noticed how tensed her own posture was but loosening up seemed to make her feel as though she were melting into a state of peace. An empty mind, the wind in her hair and surrounded by her closest friends, and one of her oldest friends, which was Pierre. This was enough. How she wished for such bliss every day.

As the sun began to set, Marya was reminded that the next day was the day she was going to return to her reality. Stress, school, duties. She didn’t let that bother now in the present. She was going to treasure every moment of this bliss, until tomorrow came.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Marya found, she never thought it would change so much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi gang! Another update! I did not want to disappoint and I was just really in the mood to write so do expect a lot of updates in the next few days! Here's a new chapter for you guys.
> 
> warning: panic attack ( i'm not really good with warnings )

The bell rang just as the minute hand of the clock stuck 12. Sharp at 8 in the morning. Students rushed to their classes, lockers slammed shut and the chatter of the morning increased in volume as girls rushed to finish their gossip. Marya stood at the double doors of the entrance, ready to note down reports of any latecomers with her notebook in hand. She checked her watch. 5 minutes had gone, and no one was late. She excused those who burst through the doors at 8:04 but when 8:05 reached, she was not letting anyone out of her grasp. She waited there. A minute passed, then another and another. She could not afford being late for classes any later than 10 minutes. She had to study and she did not enjoy wasting any second of schooling on some stupid latecomer or someone violating the school rules. So far, there was no one in the halls and this satisfied her. No one dared to defy the rules in the presence of the Terrible Dragon, one would be absolutely crazy to do so. And crazy was the correct adjective to describe the latecomer that came walking into the building past the 8:05 curfew. Marya had just turned to walk to class, grimacing when she heard the door creak open behind her. So much for an early morning class.

She turned again to greet the latecomer with a snarky comment but paused when she saw who it was. Hélène Kuragina. The girl greeted the Dragon with her smile and drummed her fingers along her forearm, waiting for the other to speak. Marya did not speak and was not so bothered by the smile as she usually was. What caught her attention was the lack of skin Hélène was showing beneath a thick sweater and ankle-length jeans. Her tank tops and shorts were gone, and so were the heels she always came strutting in, sneakers having taken their place. Marya’s jaw dropped slightly, speechless by this change. This girl disappeared for 8 days, and returned looking like a complete different person. Hélène coughed into her sleeve then waved a hand in front of Marya, snapping her fingers when Marya did not respond.

“Earth to Marya~?” Hélène said in a sing-song voice

For someone who claimed that she was sick, she looked fine. The perfect Kuragin image. ‘Were the Kuragins trained to look like statues?’ Marya wondered. Too flawless and untouched by any of the world’s imperfections. Marya lowered the hand in front of her face and narrowed her eyes at Hélène.

“You’re back,” was the first thing Marya blurted.

“Indeed, I am. Did you miss me?” Hélène asked with an innocent smile.

“You must be mad to think that,” Marya answered as she pocketed her notebook, to Hélène’s surprise.

Hélène snorted at the answer. “Come on. Pierre told me that you kept asking about me. He was concerned about your worrying, didn’t know what to do with your questions.”

“He told you? Oh, he’s going to get it…” Marya grumbled.

“So, you did. I never thought you would ever have my name roll of that tongue of yours. Since I’m here, I can answer you myself. I am fine. Maybe a little tired but, I am fine. ”

There was an edge to her words and Marya noticed it but did not acknowledge it. “I can see for myself but thank you for the assurance.”

“Am I off the hook?” Hélène asked hopefully. It took a lot of effort to get out of bed and getting her on foot wasn’t easy. Balaga was too busy to pick me up and I haven’t exactly gotten my licence yet.”

“Yeah, yeah. You had a valid reason,” Marya muttered and waved her pen in the air at Hélène.

Hélène clasped her hands together in delight. “And for this, I owe you again!”

“No need, Kuragin. Go, otherwise I’ll change my mind.”

“Always so harsh, mon Cherie. Brighten up, will you? I ain’t got any intention to bite you.”

“I’ll bite you back-!”

Hélène squealed. “How kinky~”

Marya coughed into her hand to hide a sudden laugh and brought her other hand up to rub her forehead. “You unholy child. Get your ass to class this instant!”

“Right away, ma’am.” Hélène saluted and walked past Marya.

Marya let her shoulders slouch and watched as Hélène made her way to class slowly, her steps heavy. The way the girl walk unsettled Marya. Her body weight shifted from her left leg to the other, balancing herself with caution. It was like gravity was grounding her too harshly. Perhaps Marya was overthinking. The girl did say that she was tired, possibly a lingering effect after recovering from her illness. Marya could not help but observe. Hélène’s schoolbag dangled carelessly off her shoulder, her delicate hands clutching onto the straps so tightly, her knuckles were white. She carried no grace now that it was just her and Marya, not that Marya was judging her for the way she was. Unaware of what she was doing, she cleared her throat loudly to grab Hélène’s attention. She stopped walking but did not turn, not wanting her aching neck hurting any more than it did.

“Hm?”

“I hope you’re feeling better now… I wish you a fast recovery,” Marya said in a neutral voice.

Hélène did not respond, nodding her head by an inch. Clutching her bag, she sped-walk down the hallways, disappearing out of Marya’s sight. There was a tight feeling in Marya’s chest. She had never expressed any kindness to Hélène and for a first time, it felt nice but she was not planning on getting used to it. The voice at the back of her head was demanding that she stayed as the Dragon she was. Fierce and unforgiving, Pierre, Natasha, Mary and Sonya being the only exceptions. The demanding voice died down but another one emerged, thankful that Hélène was back to entertain her. Then it hit her. Hélène was somewhat entertaining to talk to. _Argue with_, she corrected herself. It was always calm or too quiet whenever she spoke to Pierre and the others but with Hélène, alone, the both of them could stir up a storm. They spoke rapidly, sparing no mercy for the other to think and evaluate. It just never was boring. She had someone to burst out to and be herself, oddly enough, it had to be the Kuragin girl. Neither of them were there to judge the other, it was just an excuse to let out their stress on another. No one was complaining, or not yet. Marya had to admit, they had some sort of chemistry, an explosive one when they clashed, nothing pleasant.

Checking her watch, Marya yelped and broke into a run. Late again! Twice in the span of two weeks. This was just magnificent. She shoved her notebook into the oversized pocket of her jacket, darting down the hallways to her class that was at the end of the hall. She made a mental note to herself, ‘_No more conversations in the middle of duties!_’ With that, she skidded into her class and took her seat, greeted with a smiling Pierre beside her.

* * *

It was already the middle of the day and both Marya and Pierre were free for the rest of the day. They did nothing however, but sat in the library to study together, as they usually did. Pierre was nose deep in his history textbook while taking down notes in a very worn-out notebook. The pages that were used were crumpled from the amount of writing etched onto them, the words clumped up together with arrows pointing to different edges of the pages. Marya’s notes were much clearer, lined properly and her writing was light unlike Pierre’s tense and bolded writing. The boy was always tense, especially when he was studying. It was the way he was. As Pierre jotted down notes, Marya stared blankly, lips pressed together tightly. She could not focus. She had the urge to talk, to pour out her thoughts to her close friend but she did not wish to disturb him. She tried to convince herself to study and that the gossips were not important. She could wait until they were taking a break or whenever they were free. Rubbing her cheek lightly, she exhaled slowly through her nose and lowered her head to rest on the table. She dropped her arms to her side when she felt Pierre’s gentle hand on her shoulder, a comforting gesture.

“Stressed already?” Pierre whispered and laughed quietly.

“And bored. Not the best combination for a time like this,” Marya murmured and rubbed the back of her neck.

“Studying is defined by both of those words, dear Marya. Stressful and boring. Look on the bright side. It’s our last year here. Graduation is a few months away and freedom lies there,” Pierre said and pointed to nowhere, trying to picture freedom wherever he was pointing to.

“A few months sounds too long but yeah. We’re getting out of this hellhole,” Marya sighed in relief.

“That’s the spirit. Now, back to the books. You fail, it’s resitting high school again,” Pierre hummed and returned to his neglected books.

“Could we have a short chat? Take a five minute break and talk. I want that,” Marya said and leaned into her seat, her back straightened.

Pierre furrowed his brows in thought. “I guess it won’t hurt. So, what gossip do you have for me? Or tea, as the younger batch calls gossip these days.”

“Slangs are awful, proper English, please. Anyway, the head prefect duties are killing me. I suspect the other prefects are not taking their jobs seriously. Not once have I seen them doing their hallway patrol,” Marya began with a low grunt. “The fate of this school lies in their hands when we leave, and that is in a few months as you said. Imagine what will be of this place. What place is worse than Hell? God help these people.”

“You imagine your juniors as sinners betraying God’s promises of protecting his beloved land. I admire your dedication as head prefect but this is a high school and not God’s promise land,” Pierre tried to reason.

“A school is a place of discipline, where we learn to train ourselves for the world and not for fun, Pierre. We have a disciplinary board and trained prefects for that reason,” Marya retorted.

Pierre gnawed on his bottom lip. “Teenagers are maturing children. Note the continuous tense. We are developing and we always will.”

“Some students who are not prefects are more serious than most of the prefects, in case you have not noticed. Some have matured.”

“Then good for them. You’ve made a point. People are different.”

Marya went quiet. Pierre had beaten her with his wit, managed to reason through her gossip, and by the glare that darkened across her features, she did not like losing in her own talk. Pierre looked proud of himself. He picked his pen up and twirled it in one hand, grinning at Marya. Even though the boy had the face of a baby, a rather pure sight that almost everyone loved, he could beat anyone down to a pulp with his words. He did not require anger or hostility to win a quarrel or simple debate. His calmness and wit were what dominated the winning spot. They were his secret weapons and it often surprised people whenever he won arguments with his composure. Unfortunately for Marya, she was now one of those people to have faced that winning composure of his. They had been friends for the longest time but there was not a time when she was close to challenging that side of him. Pierre had many sides. To be exact, he was full of surprises.

Pierre rubbed his hands together, his pen rolling in between his palms as he watched Marya accept her defeat. It was a sight to behold but he did not dare to claim his victory. It would be rude to and he did not wish to upset his friend any more than she was now. Placing his pen down and closing his books, he scooted closer to her and rested his hands on his lap. He nudged her lightly with his elbow and she looked at him. She let out a sigh and laughed softly, nudging him back with her knuckles which earned her a laugh from Pierre.

“Smartass. You run your mouth with the speed of a horse but the wit of an intellect,” Marya teased.

“Nothing beats your ferocity. Hence your name, Terrible Dragon,” Pierre returned with a wide grin.

“Precisely!”

“Now-” Pierre sat up properly and turned to face Marya properly. “Rant away. I’ll keep my mouth zipped.”

“Thank you…” Marya paused for a thought. “Huh… I don’t feel like it anymore. How odd.”

“Odd, indeed.” Pierre tutted softly. “Not that I’m trying to stir up anything but I saw Hélène this morning. She has returned. And she looks very well, in case you didn’t know.”

“Yeah, I know. She ran into me during my morning duties which explains why I was late,” Marya said as she licked her bottom lip.

“Oh. Should have known. Anyway, she’s as cheery as usual. Said hi to me and even spoke to me for a minute then ran off with Dolokhov,” Pierre rambled.

“Why are you telling me this?” Marya asked, cutting in.

“Because you might bombard me with your questions about Hélène like you’ve been these 8 days?” Pierre answered, though it sounded more of a question.

“Fair point. Proceed,” Marya mumbled.

Pierre raised his hands up in a shrug and curled his lips. “That’s about it, actually. I have nothing more to share about her since she isn’t really any of our businesses.”

“Lovely. Thanks for the information.”

Pierre raised a brow at her, unsure if that was sarcasm or a proper thanks. He returned to his spot where his books were and lifted his pen up to his lips. “And break time is over. We took more than 5 minutes for our gossip session so, it’s back to work. Work, Marya, get working.”

“Yes, dad,” Marya grumbled.

Marya flipped through her book but her mind was elsewhere. Now that the topic of Hélène had been brought up, the same bad gut feeling she had in the morning was creeping up on her. Something about Hélène did not feel right. Nothing about that girl was right but Marya felt something in her gut that felt like a stone weighing her down. She had to relieve that feeling somehow but she did not know what was wrong to begin with. No trace to follow, only a discomforting feeling. Adjusting her jacket and tugging the ends of it, she scooted over to Pierre to whisper.

“I have a bad feeling,” she whispered, making Pierre furrow his brows.

“About what?” Pierre asked, suddenly losing interest in his studies.

“Hélène. I got this vibe when I was talking to her. I can’t really find the words to describe the vibe. Unsettling?” Marya stated questioningly.

“An unsettling vibe, you say?” Pierre repeated slowly.

“I know what I said. You don’t have to repeat it,” Marya muttered.

“It could be your prefect instincts. It’s not the first time you’ve had this vibe. I do not doubt your vibes and unsettling gut feelings. They’re always right but, again, it’s your prefect instincts. It’s always been,” Pierre reasoned with her, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Marya exhaled. “Do you think that or are you sure?”

“I am certain. Remember the times you would tell me about your gut feelings? For example, you had a strange feeling about Balaga and it turned out that he’d been smuggling champagne into school,” Pierre stated.

“I forgot about that one.”

“And Anatole. You said something was funny about him and the next thing you knew, you found him bunking classes with Dolokhov and a whole lot partying in the school gym,” Pierre continued.

“Good point, good point. Yeah, these Kuragins really do give me a headache. I’m worrying over a gut feeling,” Marya snorted dismissively.

“That’s it. Sometimes, you gotta evaluate instead of worrying straight away,” Pierre said and was soon back with his nose in his book.

The weighted feeling lightened a little but Marya could still feel its weight there, threatening to drop. Lifting up her book to eye level, she allowed her eyes to skim through the words as a distraction, reading every word aloud in her head. The more she did it, the more distracted she got and the feeling did not bother her anymore. Relaxed, Marya studied peacefully, only speaking when she had questions for Pierre about algebra. Neither spoke otherwise for a few hours in the library, focused on getting their revision done.

The hours burnt swiftly and night took over the last of the evening daylight. The library plunged in shadows of towering bookshelves and the lamps were too dim to light the entire room. Some parts of the room were well lit and the others neglected with patches of darkness. The remainder of student that stayed in the library to study decreased with each passing minute, packing their bags and departing for home. Pierre had left Marya less than an hour ago when his mother called him to come back home for dinner. Marya had no family to share dinner with nor did she have anyone to go back to at her apartment. She preferred it being that way. Alone with no one to worry about but herself but school did add to that stress. Evidently. The redhead did not care about loneliness. She had coped with it most of her life. Her parents were never around for her and she taught herself to be independent since young. Natasha, Sonya and Pierre were enough for her now. Her small group of friends that filled a big part of her life. How she loved them dearly.

Engulfed in darkness and eerie silence, Marya decided to take her leave. She chucked her belongings into her bag and exited the library after bidding the librarian a goodnight. For some reason, she loved the silence and emptiness of the school at night, 8:30 specifically. Empty hallways and classes, properly lit corridors and no signs of chaos. This was bliss to any prefect that patrolled the school late as it was always the cue of dismissal from duties. The excitement of getting home bubbled in her chest. She wanted a nice shower, a cup of coffee and some time watching television before bedtime. It was her home and her rules, she could do whatever she wanted with no one to nag her.

She picked up in her pace, speed walking down the corridors and towards the double doors of the entrance. However, she came to an abrupt in her tracks. She had caught a gasp of a sob. It was subtle but she heard it. It was not the most pleasant thing to hear at night. Taking a step forward, Marya moved towards the door. She could walk out of the doors and ignore the sob she had heard. Move on with her day. Another sob sounded and she stopped again. This sob was a lot louder than the previous one and it was coarse, as if the person was trying to suppress their sounds of distress. Mustering up her courage, Marya advanced towards the classroom where she spotted the sobbing figure. She prayed to God in her head, prayed that she was not going to be met by anything inhuman. That would be ridiculous but anything could happen.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprised by what she found, Marya decided to stay back a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, gang! I am back with an update! This one was a little rushed but I will edit it next time as I have to study. :(  
I made sure to toss in some fluff in this one so, please enjoy ~  
Do comment please, they make me happy XD  
Thanks gang!

Marya was hesitant as she reached for the doorknob. Through the window pane of the door, she could see the sobbing figure on the floor, head buried in their knees and an oversized coat draped over their head to cover them. Their back was facing the door and that wasn’t sufficient enough for Marya to identify who this unknown figure was. The coat did not do that good of a job covering the figure from Marya and the redhead cursed at herself for her sharp senses. The cold touch of the metal doorknob made her shiver, shaking off the courage she tried to carry herself with. She was thankful that there was no one in school to witness the Terrible Dragon shiver in fear for a brief moment. The door creaked open but the figure inside took no notice of Marya entering the room stealthily. She got a good look of the figure as light from the corridors poured into the room through the crack of the door. With the oversized coat obscuring the figure’s view, they did not react, still sobbing into their knees. Assured that the figure was a real human and not an inhuman entity, her confidence rushed back to her in a jolt and she flung the door open. Light lit most of the classroom and the figure flinched visibly at the intrusion.

The figure lifted their head from their knees but did not turn to look at Marya. Instead, they buried their face into their hands to hide the tears that streamed down their cheeks like waterfalls. Marya gave the figure some personal space but moved to stand in front of them. She did not wish to be rude by talking to their back. She wanted to show that she was truly concerned and that she was not there to intrude on a vulnerable moment.

“Excuse me, forgive me for prying but um... Are you alright?” Marya asked in a quiet voice.

Kneeling down, she waited for a response but the figure continued sobbing into their hands. What could have caused a person to sob so much at this time of the day, Marya did not know. She had never expected anyone to stay back late at school to cry to themselves, alone in the dark with no one to comfort them. Lifting her hands, Marya lowered the coat from the figure’s head and her eyes widened when she realized who it was.

“Kuragin?” her voice was soft, the authoritative voice absent.

The younger girl lowered her hands to look at the older girl, her brown eyes glistening in tears under the light that shone from the corridors. The perfect façade was ruined, that and her face. Tears streamed down Hélène’s cheeks endlessly, her mascara having drawing lines down her face and to her chin. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes red and puffy from crying so much, it was hard to figure out how long she had been crying. That annoying smile of hers was gone, replaced by trembling lips that bled as she dug her incisors into the soft flesh. It was shocking to Marya to see this girl who was always so proud with her nose stuck up high in the air be reduced into a sobbing wreck. There was nothing perfect about what she saw but that did not make her grimace. It was the fact that something was breaking Hélène and it broke the girl so bad, it resulted in this.

Wiping away her tears furiously, Hélène scoffed rudely at Marya. “Ain’t a pretty sight, huh? What do you think you’re staring at, Dmitrievna?” she snapped, making Marya move an inch away from her.

“You’re crying…” Marya blurted out.

“No shit, I am. I’m a human, I have feelings. Is that so hard to see?” Hélène asked, her voice weakening into a soft squeak.

“I can see that clearly, Kuragin. I never said that you weren’t,” Marya stated plainly.

“It’s not always about you- It’s about the whole school, my family, everyone in this godforsaken world!” Hélène cried out and rose to her feet.

Hélène had stood up too quickly that her weak legs gave away. She stumbled forward but Marya caught her without a second to think. She wrapped her arms around Hélène’s waist to keep her up, using a minimal amount of strength to balance her on her feet but it did not help with how she laid limp against her. It was no surprise that Hélène was light. The girl was slim and half a head shorter than Marya was but with the amount of body weight that was pressuring Marya, it was hard to keep on her own two feet. So, carefully, she settled them both on the floor, Hélène splayed messily over Marya’s lap and her head on her shoulder. Marya’s arms held the girl loosely but securely against her body, letting her lean in a lazy sitting position. She could feel the way she trembled in her arms, overwhelmed by too many complicated emotions. She let her claw at her arms, curse at herself and scold the darkness for her misery then went silent. She took in labored breaths to calm the anger that was building over her sadness but eventually, a frown settled on her features and a tear rolled down her cheek. Sobs slipped past her parted lips and she tried to move away from Marya’s comfort.

She did not deserve to be treated nicely. She did not want to be vulnerable in front of her nemesis, most of all, accept her comfort. She tried to free herself of Marya’s arms that were wrapped around her, shaking her head in refusal as she wriggled loose. Whimpers sounded instead of words, and a whimper that sounded like ‘_let me go’_ reached Marya’s ears. Grumbling a series of curse words, Marya tightened her grip on Hélène, fingers curling around the material of her sweater. She was not open for any protests. As much as she disliked Hélène, she was not going to leave her to cry alone in the dark. If anything were to happen to the girl, she would feel as though it were her fault, for some ungodly reason.

“Get your hands off of me, Dmitrievna,” Hélène hissed and tried to pry Marya’s fingers off her sweater.

“Will you please calm down?” Marya sighed, her grip firm on Hélène.

Hélène growled. “I will **not**! Now, let go of me!”

“I refuse!” Marya argued. “Squirm as much as you want, I will be unmoved.”

“You stubborn little – “

“Finish that, I dare you!”

“Listen to me when I speak to you, woman! I said – “

“If I were listening to you, I would have let go. But, have I? Obviously not, because I choose not to.”

Hélène cursed under her breath. “I swear to God!”

“Religious now, are you?” Marya sneered.

Hélène struggled more aggressively, using her entire body to squeeze herself out of Marya’s arms. After hopeless attempts of ferocious wriggling to set herself free, she soon slowed to a halt in exhaustion. She gnashed her teeth together but leaned into Marya in defeat, her small frame quivering violently. Marya smiled smugly to herself, having won this inappropriately timed fight. Then, the smile softened. She was glad that the little quarrel over for she could now focus on taking care of Hélène’s issue. The younger girl hugged Marya like her life depended on it, her grasp as tight as the others was and they clung onto each other. Silence settled upon the girls, and it was then when Marya realized that Hélène had managed to calm herself down. The sobs shrunk into subtle hiccoughs and the quivering into nothing. Hélène adjusted herself on Marya’s lap, sitting there with her legs on either side of Marya’s waist and her arms around her neck comfortably. Her chin rested on her shoulder and Marya could feel her warm but shaky breath tickle against her neck.

This was the closest they had ever been with each other, but neither seemed to mind. They remained in their positions for a while, soaking in the comfort to quench themselves of the negligence of care. Even though Marya was fine living independently, she could not help but acknowledge that she was lonely, save for Pierre and Natasha’s company. She did not receive affections of such, brief hugs, yes, but one that lasted as long as this one, with her nemesis, was rare.

As for Hélène, she missed the comfort ever since her mother left the family, passed away from a dreadful disease that was incurable. That was when most of her life went downhill, when her father started abusing her and when she had to be the life buoy of the family. Keep them all afloat, especially her younger brothers. Anatole cared for her genuinely but it was not enough to keep her strong. By the way she had broken down at this time of the day, it told a lot about her crisis.

Hélène flinched when she felt Marya rub her back, her hand moving up and down gently in a manner of comfort. It was awkward but she was trying, and she appreciated the effort. Lifting her head from Marya’s shoulder, she sat up straight and loosened her arms around her neck slightly. The hand that rubbed her back rested on her waist, grasping her sweater lightly. They stared straight at each other, waiting for the other to speak but none of them made the move. Marya’s bright eyes studied the wreck of a girl in her arms, the makeup stained face now bare of her ‘mask’. The shock had not calmed in Marya from seeing Hélène in this sort of state and it was beginning to be ridiculous to her. Hélène studied her in turn, the Terrible Dragon whose ferocity was not present to scold her or insult her to damnation. Only a redheaded girl sat there with care and comfort to offer, someone the brunette felt like she had never met before. Like Marya’s own thoughts, it was ridiculous to her. Hélène was the first to turn away, her gaze fixated on the ground, but Marya made the bolder move of speaking first.

“Would you care to explain how you ended up like this?” Marya asked in the softest tone she could manage.

Hélène shrugged hesitantly. “Not now… Not today. Some other time, maybe?”

“Maybe is quite a weak word. It doesn’t guarantee an answer,” Marya told her and frowned.

“I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t plan on letting it resurface in the future. Just let it be,” Hélène grumbled and buried her face against Marya’s neck, concealing herself more than it was for comfort.

“Okay, I won’t push any boundaries... I can’t stay long so, I can’t have you remain here alone,” Marya murmured and ran her hand along Hélène’s side gently.

Hélène sighed but nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

Marya steadied her breathing. The position they were in was making her tense and anxious for some unknown reason. Marya grasped onto her arms that still remained around Hélène’s waist, locking them in place for she did not want to deprive the girl of any comfort she needed now. She felt the arms around her neck adjust themselves, firmer and secured; and it was evident that Hélène wanted the comfort desperately. She pressed her small frame against the other’s body and practically nuzzled against her neck, grumbling inaudibly at herself. Marya did not listen to the grumbling, thinking it was some personal thing of hers that she shouldn’t pry. Time passed slowly. In their current event, less than 10 minutes had gone by, according to the clock above the whiteboard of the classroom. Marya had plenty of time to spare but she did not know how to cope with the silence for however long they were going to spend in the room. Hélène shifted and she looked at Marya with slightly wide eyes, and wondered out loud.

“Why are you treating me so kindly all of a sudden?”

Marya looked at her then towards the door with a small tilt of her head. “Am I not allowed?” Hélène wanted to answer but Marya held a hand up to stop her. “Don’t answer that. Look, I know we argue a lot-“

“A lot is an understatement,” Hélène interrupted but trailed off when Marya shot her a glare. “Sorry… Um- Proceed.”

“What I meant to say, before I was so rudely interrupted, is that everyone deserves to be treated nicely. It doesn’t matter who or what you are, or whether I get the favor returned. It’s the right thing to do,” Marya murmured, and funny enough, she sounded a lot like Pierre.

Hélène cringed at Marya’s words and chuckled. “That was some cheesy stuff, Marya, but you’re right… You’re right. To be honest, I admire your thinking.”

“Well, that’s new,” Marya interjected.

“Ain’t all of this new? For once, you’re not yelling at me for wasting your time or swatting me off like a pest. You’re here… babying me,” Hélène pointed out.

“Yelling isn’t so appropriate under circumstances such as this. Besides, the arguing is fun,” Marya said and grinned proudly. “Because I always win.”

Hélène exaggerated a gasp, dramatizing how ‘offended’ she felt. “Are you calling me a loser now? That is not true! We never ended the arguments properly so there’s no way you could have won them.”

“We do end them. Always the same with you excusing yourself to run to class and that is when I claim my victory,” Marya explained with glee.

“Cheater,” Hélène grumbled and lowered her head on Marya’s shoulder, knocking it with her chin.

“Admit it, Kuragin. You can’t beat me.”

“I will. Some day~”

There was that playful tone of hers. Surprisingly, it was easy to cheer the girl up, even though Marya barely put any effort into her consoles. It was either Hélène was a very easy girl to please or that Marya had actually done something to bring her back to her normal state. Whichever it was, she was proud and relieved to have gotten rid of the negativity in the room. Hélène swayed but moved minimally in Marya’s arms, her restlessness getting the best of her. Marya could feel the perk of a smile tugging at her lips, and for a moment, she could feel Hélène smile against her shoulder. She continued to sway on her lap and Marya moved along to her pace absent-mindedly. Feeling the smile against her shoulder widen, Marya turned her head to look down at Hélène, her locks of curls draped over her face but she could see the smile. Vibrant and glowing,

“Ah- You’re smiling a lot now,” Marya murmured.

“I do it a lot,” Hélène hummed. “And I know you don’t like it.”

“I like this one,” Marya muttered and poked at the other’s forehead.

Hélène furrowed her brows curiously. “And why’s that?”

“It’s a genuine smile, I can tell,” Marya answered plainly.

Hélène opened her mouth to speak but close it again. She turned away from Marya and ran a hand through her tangled mess of hair, a flood of thoughts rushing to her mind. It was true. It was the first genuine smile she had ever shown Marya and she saw right through her. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment and she raised a hand to her cheek, feeling the heat against her palm. She squirmed in Marya’s lap and made an annoyed sound that made Marya chuckle softly. The chuckle only made her cheeks redden more and she had no intention to face Marya until the blush was gone, but the other girl did not mind waiting. ‘_Let her wait_,’ Hélène thought as she nibbled on her nails. _‘__Let her wait…’ _Marya simply watched but smacked Hélène’s hand at the sight of her biting her nails. Her arm fell then returned to wrap around her neck. Silence kicked in again but this silence lasted shorter than their long pauses not long ago. With the blush gone, Hélène scrunched her nose and tapped Marya’s shoulder for her attention.

“Marya?”

“Yes, Hélène?”

“…Thank you…”

Marya felt her heart skip a beat and a fluttering in her chest. Clearing her throat, she whispered a breathy ‘You’re welcome’. Hélène untangled herself from Marya and stood up, holding a hand out to the redhead. When Marya did not take it, she waved it about until she gave in. Closing their hands on each other’s, Hélène helped Marya stand and with that, they grabbed their things and walked out of the classroom, hand-in-hand. They did not speak on their way out of the school but their hands remained held, fingers laced in a sealed hold. At the gates, they released their hands but grazed their fingers until their fingertips parted.

“Goodnight, Dmitrievna.”

“Goodnight, Kuragin. I expect you won’t be late?”

“I won’t.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You will~”

And with a final wave of a goodbye, they left, going their separate ways back home. Warmth blossomed in both of their chests and smiles were etched upon their lips. They sure as hell were going to see each other the following day, they were confident.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marya doesn't know what her feelings are anymore, and she questions herself a lot.

Hélène did not know what came upon her. She stood in front of the school gate and stared up at the building, in a bit of a blur. Dawn had just broken, the deep navy blue sky turning into a lighter shade with no sign of sunlight yet and the moon was still glowing above her head. Anatole had left her side just a few minutes ago when Dolokhov arrived but she remained at the gate, unsure of herself. They had invited her to join them for a gathering in the school gym but she rejected, saying that she was too exhausted to face people in the morning. It was a reasonable excuse. Anatole knew how much Hélène truly disliked the students of the school, despite being the ‘Queen of Society’. They irritated her. They always offered her the hand of friendship because of her popular reputation, only to abandon her when they had their newly found fame but she would play along whenever they would return to her. She was used to it. Acting and pretending that she was fine.

Standing outside the school alone, she raised her wrist to eye-level and narrowed her eyes at her watch. 7:35 in the morning. This was the earliest she had ever been and she could not figure out where the impulse that got her out of bed came from. She had the best sleep and she could have stayed in bed longer but some part of her had motivated her to get out and head to school early with Anatole. Anatole was happy about it and did not ask any questions, having skipped off to the door after Hélène told him that she was walking to school with him. It was quite a change. In fact, many things were changing in her little world ever since the encounter with Marya the night before. It was odd but at least something different in her life; that made it so much more exciting. Tugging the straps of her schoolbag, she walked into the building in a few graceful strides. She ran a hand through her messy curls that laid on her shoulders before tying it up in a loose ponytail. Even having woken up early, she could not muster the effort to do her hair up. Her clothes were lazily thrown on as well, another sweater, this one dark green, and black leggings.

Just one long lazy day for her, that’s what she wanted. She was not going to stress herself for she did not want the same outcome as she had yesterday which was breaking down in a dark classroom, way past schooling hours. Crying for hours had drained a lot of her energy and she was slowly regaining the lost energy from sleep and being somewhat passive with her movements to preserve whatever energy she had. Walking to the lockers, she stood in front of hers and studied it. It was metallic green, littered in smudges of other shades of green to cover the vandalism from her haters. She brushed her fingers against one of the lighter green smudges that covered the word ‘_slut_’ that was scrawled in striking red marker. Slut… The most common name people called her. The rumors of her sleeping around with nearly every boy in school had spread like wild fire, and that happened during the time she dated Pierre. Pierre believed the rumors and it led to their breakup, but Hélène did not blamed him. Some rumors were true but many were not. The most ridiculous one she had heard being tossed around was that she had slept with the entire football team. She had responded to that rumor by laughing. She had laughed at anyone who believed, at the football team for lying for saying that it was true and laughed at the cheerleaders for being so pathetic and gullible. The laughing numbed that pain in her heart and it hardened her for the worst that she was sure to come.

Withdrawing her hand with a scoff, she flung the locker door open and dug through for her books. As she reached out to grab her biology textbook, she heard a knock on her locker door. She could see a set of feet behind the locker door, donning a pair of black Nike’s and she already figured out who it was. She shoved her biology book into her bag and closed the locker door with a slap of her hand. Dolokhov stood there, leaning against the neighbouring locker with a grin, his head resting on his hand and his elbow propped against the locker.

“Aren’t you suppose to be with Anatole?” Hélène asked as she zipped up her bag.

“I am but then I decided to look for you. The gathering was boring, almost like a book club really,” Dolokhov muttered and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Book clubs are peaceful, mind you, and I’m surprised to hear that about my brother’s gatherings. This is Anatole we’re talking about,” Hélène said, pushing his arm off slightly.

“The hype isn’t there, unless you consider Balaga’s champagne. He managed to sneak a whole crate in,” Dolokhov whispered, wary of eavesdroppers. “Had a few glasses myself, didn’t want to go to class drunk.”

“I can smell it from your breath. Have a mint,” Hélène muttered and held out a stick of mentos, having whipped it out from the side-pocket of her bag.

“No need for that, love.” He moved drunkenly and pinned Hélène against the wall. “Don’t you want a taste of champagne?”

“No, thank you. I haven’t had my coffee yet so please move before I knee you in the groin,” Hélène said calmly as she tried to duck under his arm.

Dolokhov grabbed her waist tightly and tutted softly. “Not so fast. What’s changed? Got bored of me already? Got another newly found sex toy, huh?”

“Fedya, you’re drunk. Run along and harass someone else or return to that gathering of yours,” Hélène snapped, her patience running low.

“Listen to me, missy. You listen or I’ll make you,” Dolokhov threatened emptily but raised a hand.

Hélène cowered away at the sight of his raised hand but the hand never came down to strike her. She kept her eyes fixated on his feet, worried that this might be a trick, that when she looked up, he would slap her across the face. She fumbled with her hands and waited but still, nothing. Dolokhov’s attention was on a figure at the end of the hall, a girl dressed in a neat red knee-length dress and her fiery red hair gathered in a messy bun. Dolokhov stood frozen, feeling the gaze of the Terrible Dragon piercing through him like a knife. It was a dangerous stare and he did not dare to move, in fear that she would attack him. He expected the redhead to walk away but she did not budge. Her glare hardened the longer she stared at the boy and she advanced towards him in slow warning steps. He moved away from Hélène and huffed in frustration, pulling at the ends of his jacket as he walked off. He was not stupid enough to challenge Marya. He was already doomed having provoked the Dragon and he did not want to tempt her any further into putting him 6 feet underground. He scurried off back to the gym where his friends were, and Marya redirected her direction towards Hélène.

Hélène finally looked up after Dolokhov left and patted her chest to calm the rapid beating of her heart. She had no clue what had happened. Dolokhov disappeared round a corner in a blink of an eye and Marya was right next to her like she had materialized out of nowhere. Straightening her sweater, she gave Marya a small smile but the taller girl did not return one. Marya’s glare had lightened into a scowl and it did not waver as she looked at Hélène with an inspecting gaze. Maybe things had not changed between them. Maybe Marya was being nice just because it was the right thing to do; she said it so herself. Hélène exhaled through her mouth and folded her arms over her chest, brows furrowing to match Marya’s scowl. There was no use for her façade now for Marya had already seen whom she was deep inside. Her smiling was useless but one crept its way to her lips.

“Mon cherie, if you’re going to scold me, I didn’t do anything-

“Good morning, Hélène,” Marya interrupted and a smile had replaced her scowl.

Hélène paused and her smile widened. She was wrong after all. Things _had _changed. “Oh- Good morning, Marya.”

The two stood there in silence, smiling and swaying. This was the first friendly interaction they have ever had and they did not know how to respond to this change. They had yet to adapt to one another’s friendliness and speak without raising any argument. That was easy, refraining themselves from snapping at each other but returning kind words and greetings was difficult. Why were the nicest things always the most difficult ones to give? A stupid concept but true to both the girls for they were stuck in an awkwardly quiet situation and neither of them wanted to leave with a simple greeting.

“Are you feeling better?” Marya began and clasped her hands together.

Hélène nodded rapidly and chewed on her bottom lip. “A whole lot better, yeah. Thanks for asking. And how are you feeling?”

“I’m alright, thank you…” Marya racked through her brain for ways to maintain the conversation and cursed quietly to herself for ideas. “Last night-“ _Great going, Marya._

_“_About that… Can you keep that between us? I don’t need Anatole or anyone asking about it,” Hélène said urgently and looked at Marya pleadingly.

“I promise I won’t. I’m just concerned about you,” Marya admitted softly.

“That’s very very sweet of you,” Hélène mumbled bashfully and rubbed the back of her neck.

“I mean it, Kuragin,” Marya snapped and it made Hélène flinch.

“I mean it too, Marya! It’s actually really sweet of you to worry about me and I appreciate your concern,” Hélène interjected, correcting Marya before she snapped again.

Marya felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “My apologies. I may have misinterpreted that tone in your voice… Anyway, you’re welcome.”

Hélène brushed it off. “It’s no big deal.”

Marya chewed on the insides of her cheeks and sighed to herself. “What’s your first class of the day?”

“Economics. The most boring class of the day. I don’t understand why we have to learn about macroeconomics or about scarcity at this age. We should learn this in college or university, or offer this to students who really want to pursue economics,” Hélène rambled as she rummaged through her bag.

“Then why take it if it’s so boring?” Marya questioned with a short laugh.

“There were no other suitable choices for myself and my father preferred that I took it instead of English literature,” Hélène answered and sulked.

“Tragic,” Marya commented, and it came out harsher than she intended to make it sound.

“Extremely,” Hélène responded and laughed.

They laughed together until their laughter died down into small giggles. They exchanged bright smiles, giggles still slipping past their lips every time their smiles widened. Hélène brought a hand up to pat Marya’s cheek in an affectionate manner and tilted her head. Her fingers touched her cheeks, tracing the lines of her cheekbone and jaw. Marya did the best she could to stop the heat rising to her cheeks. She was a terribly pale girl and if she were to blush even a little, Hélène would be able to see it. Gently, she plucked Hélène’s hand off her cheek and held it in hers. She looked down at their hands and swung them back and forth, relieved that the heat that had just risen to her cheeks was starting to cool off. The bell rang and Marya wanted to throw her boots at that annoying metal contraption. She released Hélène’s hand and shoved her hands into her pockets.

“Duty calls,” Marya murmured.

Hélène clicked her tongue. “And that is my cue to leave. Have a good day, Marya. I’ll see you around, and thanks again for yesterday.”

Hélène sprinted to class with the widest grin on her face and Marya walked to the doors of the school with the softest smile. During her duties, she never smiled for she wanted to be intimidating in front of the latecomers but she was too much in a daze to bother about looking fierce. Hélène did wonders to hers. That girl could make her angry, soft and happy with a snap of her fingers but Marya understand why. It certainly was not submission or falling into some sort of manipulation. There was something there but she could not put her finger on it.

The 8:15 curfew went by and Marya walked to class immediately. As she walked, Pierre popped out of the male’s bathroom, almost startling her in her tracks and the boy laughed at the reaction. He clapped a hand on Marya’s shoulder and doubled over, still laughing at his trick. Marya wrapped an arm around Pierre’s neck and rubbed his head aggressively, until his hair was in disarray. He tamed his wild hair with one hand and wrapped his free arm around Marya, pulling her to his side as he led her down the hallway. He grinned mischievously and pounded a fist to his chest in pride.

“For the Terrible Dragon, I didn’t think you would get such a fright,” Pierre teased in between laughs.

“For someone dear, bewildered and awkward, you are wicked,” Marya returned and ruffled his hair again.

“I’m full of surprises,” Pierre said gleefully.

“I don’t know how to feel about that. Should I be frightened?” Marya asked and raised a brow.

“Perhaps~” Pierre sang then his usual dull expression return. A thought. “Hey- I could not help but notice that you and Hélène were talking.”

“Who’s to say we can or cannot talk?” Marya shot at him.

“Talking and not arguing was what I meant to say. You two were talking civilly,” Pierre said, enunciating the word ‘civilly’.

“It was a conversation, nothing that concerns you. We are two normal human beings having a conversation and you were stalking,” Marya stated.

“I glimpsed. I did not stalk. Anyway, she looked very happy and you were too. I’m quite glad to see that the both of you are getting along,” Pierre told her with a smile. “About time you two had a normal talk.”

“Refreshing, isn’t it? Not having an argument this early in the morning,” Marya remarked and rubbed her cheek.

“Indeed.”

Their conversation came to an abrupt end and so did their walking. Pierre and Marya were nearly sent crashing to the floor when Natasha collided into them with a massive hug. She curled her arms around her seniors and gave them a squeeze of affection while Sonya tailed behind her with a shy look on her face. Pierre and Marya returned the hug, bemused by the collision of the hug that had shaken them up. The hug lasted longer than a minute, ending when Sonya peeled her cousin off Pierre and Marya with a flurry of apologies. Pierre adjusted his slanting spectacles and offered the girls an awkward grin while Marya straightened out the crumpled front of her red skirts, taking their time to regain their composure while Natasha waited.

“Good morning, Pierre, Marya!” Natasha exclaimed overenthusiastically.

“Aren’t you a ray of sunshine, Natasha?” Pierre murmured and glanced at Marya.

“Overexcited would be the right description,” Marya told Pierre, and Natasha giggled.

Sonya yanked Natasha’s arm and groaned. “She had coffee with three expresso shots and a sugar content twice a can of soda. I tried to stop her but she refused to listen.”

“Sonya, you must see that I have to stay awake for 11 hours today. I have classes ‘til 6 in the evening and I cannot afford dozing off,” Natasha said and freed her arm of Sonya’s grip.

“Seeing as you can’t stand still for a second, let’s walk you to class,” Marya offered and took Natasha’s arm, guiding the overly energized girl to her classroom on the third floor.

Natasha craned her head over her shoulder to look at Pierre and waved a hand at him. “How is Hélène, Pierre? I saw her today and said hi but she couldn’t stop for a chat so, I was unable to ask her myself.”

“She looks perfectly fine,” Sonya stated and made a face.

“Oh, she’s –

“Hélène is doing marvellously. Playful and childish as usual,” Marya interrupted, and Natasha went quiet with a peculiar stare directed at the redhead.

“You’re awfully up to date about Hélène but that’s great to hear!” Natasha pointed out and laughed softly into the back of her hand. “Pierre must be a very good source to ask about her.”

“She obtained the answers herself. I saw them talking this morning,” Pierre corrected her and Natasha gasped.

“It was a **normal** conversation,” Marya repeated, annoyed with the repetition.

You finally spoke to her? About time. I shall drop by her table during recess to greet her again,” Natasha declared and skipped beside Marya.

“But Anatole-?” Sonya piped up.

“You needn’t fret, dear Sonya. It’s only a simple ‘hi’,” Natasha said in a carefree manner.

“That’s the spirit!” Pierre encouraged and gave Natasha an approving nod.

“Why exactly are we treating the Kuragins as if they’re aliens?” Marya asked and folded her arms over her chest. “They’re people, for Christ sake.”

“They’re dangerous people, Marya… You don’t know them like I do,” Pierre murmured in a grave tone.

“You’ve dated the oldest of them, so what? You should be used to them,” Marya retorted and raised her head a little.

“That, I am, but I still have to be wary when I’m around them. Their father especially, the craziest man I’ve ever met,” Pierre shuddered and rubbed his forearms for comfort.

“Crazier than Andrey’s father?” Natasha questioned in shock.

“Natasha, don’t be rude!” Sonya cried out and rubbed her face within her hands.

“Crazier and wilder than Mr Bolkonsky. It sounds impossible but it isn’t,” Pierre confirmed it.

“You guys amuse me with this talk. I’m not afraid of anyone,” Marya muttered.

“That’s because people are intimidated by you. You have got nothing to fear,” Pierre stated, earning a proud smirk from Marya. “Lucky you, then. The only reason why people don’t bully me is because you’re my best friend.”

“You should be so lucky,” Marya commented, voice dripping in merriment.

Marya was pleased with herself of being the fearless and the feared one of the group but an intrusive thought prodded at her for answers. What was it that she feared? Someone always feared something but Marya was almost certain that she was literally fearless. There was a possibility that she feared looking for the answer itself but that would be ridiculous. She was always keen on seeking answers and not leaving rhetorical questions to bounce in her head. School would be an inappropriate place to figure it out, after all, there was nothing so terrifying to fear in this building.

* * *

Marya sat sandwiched in between Natasha and Pierre, and they chatted over her, making her lean back into her seat to give them some space. She did not eavesdrop, out of respect, and allowed her eyes to scan the cafeteria. Sonya was silently nibbling on carrot sticks, listening to Mary talk about church services on Sunday and about the coming celebrations they were to have. A pleasant but hushed chat between the girls but it was in their nature to be very soft-spoken. It was a breather for Marya whenever Pierre and Natasha spoke noisily over each other. As much as she loved the innocent excitement of her friends, their interruptive yelling and laughing sometimes made her ears ring in discomfort. She descended further into her seat and the two beside her inched closer to hear themselves better over the noise of the cafeteria.

On the other side of the cafeteria sat Hélène and by her sides, Dolokhov and Anatole who were drunk from Balaga’s champagne. It was hardly noticeable for they spoke with such composure, only slurring when they made stupid jokes that Hélène would cringe at then laugh it off in the fakest laugh she could do. She slid down her chair and folded her leg over the other, hands resting over her lap as she looked around the cafeteria. She wanted to leave but she was aware that Dolokhov would tail her around for attention in which she did not want to give. Anatole was too tipsy to walk straight, so if she were to lure Dolokhov out of the cafeteria with her, Anatole would be left alone with no one to assist him back to class. She squished her face within her hands and pinched her cheeks to distract herself from Anatole’s babbling about his Polish girlfriend and Dolokhov’s responses to Anatole about irrelevant nonsense of troikas and vodka. Looking around, Hélène found that her eyes met with a familiar pair of grey ones. Her breath hitched in her throat, and she sat up properly to meet those pair of eyes, despite how far they were.

Marya remained in the same position, slumped in her seat idly but tensed up when her eyes met a dark pair across the room. Hélène and Marya were caught in an intense moment of staring, unable to tear their eyes away. Raising a hand, Hélène waved to Marya and beamed at her with a toothy smile. Marya inhaled sharply and lifted her hand to respond with the littlest wave of her own, her fingers barely peaking out from under the side of the table. The heat rose to her chest and up to her cheeks, coloring them into a bright shade of pink. She turned away sharply but it did nothing to hide the blush that Hélène could see very clearly and in turn, Hélène covered her lips in her hand to hide the fondness in her smile. The third genuine smile, caused by the same redheaded girl. Hélène kicked her legs in the air in delight and one could compare her to teenager in love seeing her crush, or realistically in Hélène’s mind, some may think that she was flirting with another ‘target’, another partner to bed. Her eyes crinkled as her smile broadened and she could hear herself giggling over Anatole’s babbling. She was lucky that the boys were busy talking to themselves to notice her uncontrollable smiling.

Hélène did not want anyone to know that her mask was broken and that the innocent girl inside of her was emerging because Marya, that ferocious redhead with a soft side. She would be bullied for being so vulnerable and that would be her downfall, and she did not intend on adding any more suffering to her life. This was good enough, to have someone bring her out of her shell and assure her that it was safe to be herself. Stealing a glance, she removed her hand from her lips and the smile softened at the sight of Marya’s blush.

While Hélène was occupied in a state of delight, Marya was in a flurry of flustering emotions and she tried desperately to rub the pink in her cheeks. She drummed her nails against her cheeks and closed her eyes, rocking back and forth. This feeling was odd and overwhelming. The heat in her cheeks, the thrumming of her heart in her chest and the jittery feeling that made her hands tremble. She would seem extremely nervous if it were not for her lips stretching to her cheeks in a smile. She was so absorbed in her feelings that she did not notice the silence that settled over Natasha and Pierre as they studied their friend. Natasha brought a hand up to Marya’s forehead and hummed in anticipation.

“Are you feeling under the weather, Marya? You’re red in the face,” Natasha said as she drew her hand back.

“It’s a bit hot here,” Marya lied coolly and fanned herself with her hands.

Pierre slid a finger in the collar of his shirt and pulled at it to ventilate himself, nodding in agreement. “It really is hot in here. Should we go?”

“Marya, do tell us if you’re unwell or anything. Let’s leave. We can sit in the library where it’s air-conditioned,” Natasha said and stood up with Marya’s arm in hand.

“I believe that is not necessary,” Marya murmured and flicked her wrist to loosen Natasha’s grip on her arm.

“We believe otherwise,” Pierre argued and got up, fanning himself with his stack of notes.

“Sonya, Mary, come along. We’re heading to the library,” Natasha called out and spun around to face them.

“N-no thank you. We would like to stay here and chat. The library is… too quiet for us,” Mary spoke up.

“Yeah, we’ll find you guys later. Enjoy the air-conditioning,” Sonya murmured, and Marya could hear the joy in her voice.

She noticed how closely they were sitting together. Sonya’s legs glued to Mary’s, and they were hand-in-hand, fingers closed around the other’s hand. They were braver than she was in expressing their affections, even with the smallest gestures. She could not help but envy them. She bade them goodbye when she felt Natasha drag her towards the exit of the cafeteria but turned around to catch a final glimpse of Hélène. And a smile spread across her red lips.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all awkward now between Marya and Hélène for they are unsure of where they stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, gang!  
I must apologize in advance. This isn't the best chapter but it leans a lot on the progression of the storyline so, yeah! Hope you enjoy this one. I promise I'll make the next one a lot better and longer!

It went on for a nearly three weeks. The shy waving and the constant staring competitions in the cafeteria. They never spoke, only because they could not bring themselves to. Whenever they ran into each other, they would only exchange fast greetings, give excuses to leave then run for their lives. Whatever came upon them to do so, they did not know where it came from. A wave of awkwardness would wash over them every time they saw each other and Marya assumed it was because of the sudden change in events. They were not enemies anymore, and they often had to remind themselves about it. It was difficult to process for they were so accustomed to ignoring or sneering at the presence of the other. Now there were no more harsh arguments, no rapid firing of insults, only kind and friendly gestures. It may have been because they did not know how to address one another as friends nor did not know how to communicate as friends. It was like learning a whole new language and to understand each other, they had to master it together. It was no easy task for they both had their own struggles. Marya’s stubborn pride refused to give in to the newly found friendliness, and Hélène was not so willing to extend a hand of friendship due to her own irrational fears and inability to befriend people. And because of how distanced they were, Natasha and Pierre assumed that they had returned to their old ways of enemies but they did not interfere but Natasha, being the curious girl she was, asked Marya many questions.

They sat on the bleachers outside the school by the field, watching the juniors’ underwhelming football match which was coached by Fedya Dolokhov. The boy was good with preparations but his motivational speeches were not as great. Marya had a good laugh with Pierre as they watched the juniors argue and throw accusations as excuses to explain why they were awful. The laughter was a distraction from Natasha’s never-ending questions but it was not effective enough. Sonya sat on the highest step of the bleachers with Mary, absorbed in a book that they were supposed to study for their English Literature classes, ‘Much Ado About Nothing’. Mary was more focused than Sonya was for the girl could not help eavesdropping on Natasha’s questioning and Marya’s answers. Natasha’s questions made Marya fidgety for she had to lie her way through, unwilling to expose her feelings to Natasha. She trusted the girl but she felt that it was better to keep it to herself.

“I thought you and Hélène ended your rivalry. Is it so hard to start a conversation or do you still hate her?” Natasha asked and rested her head on her hand.

“Was that one or two questions? Or one after the other?” Marya asked and raised a brow.

“Answer it however you want,” Natasha responded, listening attentively.

“First question, no. I’m perfectly capable of starting conversations. Second, no,” Marya answered as she played with the end of her skirt.

“Then why aren’t you speaking to her?” Natasha pressed on. “I talk to her quite often and she’s a lovely person to talk to.”

“Natasha, darling. When I end my rivalry with someone, it does not mean that we are automatically friends. I do not speak to her because I do not find the necessity or need to,” Marya forced out.

A lie. She had let it out so naturally, she was almost convinced that it was the truth. She had been wanting to talk to Hélène, which defied the first answer she had told of being ‘perfectly capable’ of starting a conversation. Like mentioned before, learning to talk to each other was still foreign to her and she did not know how to approach Hélène. A ‘hello’ was too simple and offering to be friends immediately was weird. She needed a plan but she had no beginning to it, only its context. Thinking to herself, she turned her back to Natasha and stared at the sky, rubbing her chin lightly. Natasha did not disturb her in her thoughts but to keep herself occupied, she talked to Pierre about the Math Club, showing a great deal of interest. The longer Marya thought, the emptier her mind became and thinking became useless. She had nothing but a question that may possibly help her. Turning to Natasha and Pierre, she waved a hand at them for their attention and when she got her attention, she asked the question.

“How did we become friends?”

Natasha’s eyes lit up in delight but Pierre’s expression scrunched into confusion. Natasha gave her answer while Pierre took the time to recollect the memories. Marya listened to Natasha’s extremely detailed story, impressed and touched that she remembered every bit of how their friendship blossomed. She took down mental notes, nodding every second with precise detail as Natasha had narrated. Pierre struggled to retell the story of the beginning of his friendship with Marya but it was not his fault. Marya could not recall much either for it was a very long time ago. With the answers she needed, she thanked them profusely and stood up. Bidding them goodbye, she took off, running into the school to find Hélène. She wanted to get it over with as soon as she could before she could have any second thoughts.

The search for Hélène was tiring but to no avail, she failed to find her. She searched every possible place. The library, the cafeteria and the auditorium but she was nowhere to be seen. She did not bother asking Anatole for a group of 13 year olds crowded him outside his class, and asking Dolokhov was useless for he had been at the field since morning. Just as she had feared, she started having second thoughts. Maybe this was a sign telling her to leave that friendship aside, that she would be fine without having Hélène as a friend. She had been fine for a long time when Hélène was her enemy and she questioned herself as to how this was any different. It was intended to be a rhetorical question but an answer popped up. When they were enemies, they still spoke, but now they were too quiet when they crossed paths. Leaning against a locker, Marya rubbed her sweaty hands together and breathed heavily, listening to the blood rush in her ears. Her heart sped up and her cheeks flushed into crimson, a darker shade than her dress. This was no panic attack. Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova had a crush. A crush on Hélène Vasilyevna Kuragina.

* * *

Hélène emerged from the biology laboratory, a place Marya had missed in her search for the girl, and she slid out of her laboratory coat while murmuring to herself. The other students bade her goodbye as they ran for their other classes. Hélène was in no rush for she had free period until school ended but she would have to spend it in boredom. Anatole had classes and Dolokhov was busy coaching juniors, and that left her no one else to hang out with. She could call up Pierre but she figured that he was busy with his group of friends, and that included Marya. Slinging her bag over her shoulders, she walked to the cafeteria to grab a bite when she bumped into Mary and Sonya. Sonya’s eyes widened but Mary greeted Hélène calmly with a smile in which Sonya followed with a blush. Hélène returned the greeting, noticing that the girls were holding hands tightly. It was no mystery that they were dating, and the fact made Hélène sigh to herself. It was nice to have a significant other but with her history and the rumors that circulated, who would want to be with her? Grabbing a sandwich, she went to pay for it but her eyes remained on Sonya and Mary who giggled silently as they whispered. When Hélène had met Mary the first time, the girl was as quiet as a church mouse. She never spoke properly, instead, she would literally squeak out her responses to conversation. Seeing that same shy girl giggling and socializing with others made Hélène feel fuzzy and warm, and it was not only because of how much she changed. It was about who changed her and how they did it. Love did wonders, wonders Hélène never felt. Sonya was a shy girl herself but she had the power to change someone, and Hélène became curious.

With her sandwich, she walked up to the girls casually and struck up a conversation. She did not struggle like Marya had for she had plenty of dignity to spare. So, the three of them spoke as they walked. Mary was comfortable with Hélène’s presence but Sonya was still adapting and the discomfort was visible. The constant fidgeting and interrupting made it evident enough. Mary did most of the sharing about their friendship and of how they had built the courage to admit their feelings. Hélène’s chatterbox of a mouth ceased to speak and she listened obediently, nodding. Sonya could not suppress the suspicion of Hélène’s intentions but waited until Mary finished her storytelling.

“You should not be afraid of anything, except God. Everyone should fear him and not anything else. Trust yourself and the results may be promising,” Mary told Hélène who nodded.

“Be afraid of God and nothing else. Got it,” Hélène repeated.

“Why are you asking about us, out of the blue?” Sonya asked quickly before Mary could speak.

Hélène blinked. “Made me curious. You know me, I have to get my answers. If I’m being bothersome and wish that I leave, I will do so.”

“It is okay to be curious. You don’t have to leave,” Mary cut in, standing in front of Sonya to block the disgusted look from Hélène’s view

“Reminds me of Natasha but weirder,” Sonya murmured.

“I’ll leave anyway. I don’t want to third wheel your alone time together,” Hélène said as she finished up her sandwich. “Enjoy yourselves and thank you.”

Mary beamed. “You’re welcome.”

Hélène walked away from the couple while Sonya dragged Mary off to goodness knew where. The hostility was the least of her worries. With the answers, she did not know what to do with them. It was useful information to work with on her socializing skills but she did not have the motivation to start. She watched her feet as she walked, counting the steps she took towards her locker without paying much attention. Upon reaching her locker, she keyed in the code without even looking and swung the door open. She discarded her books inside the little space and arranged them, still lost in her thoughts. She was in a daze when she closed the locker door but snapped out of it when she saw a blurred red figure leaning against a locker not far from hers. Narrowing her eyes, she spotted Marya frozen against the lockers in the reddest blush she had ever seen. Smirking to herself at the sight, she walked over to her.

Marya took no notice of Hélène until the shorter girl stood in front of her with that smirk of hers. The smirk brought back every sense of calmness and she scowled at her. There came their old habits. Marya wiped her sweaty hands on the sides of her dress and faced Hélène with firmness which had no effect. Neither of them spoke and the silence soon dissolved the tension into awkward smiles. Hélène backed away from Marya, creating a respectable distance between them and they greeted each other softly.

“Hi.”

“Hi…We haven’t spoken in weeks,” Hélène stated and laughed nervously.

“I’ve noticed,” Marya muttered. “How are you?”

“Pleasant. Thank you, and you?” Hélène answered, still unfamiliar with the friendliness.

“I’m very well, thank you...” Marya responded and crinkled her nose.

“So, are you free now?” Hélène asked before the awkward silence could settle in.

“I am, actually. I could have gone home but I had things to do,” Marya told her, careful with her words.

“And standing in a shade of crimson against the lockers was something you had to do?” Hélène asked jokingly, laughing at her own joke.

“It was the outcome of failure.” Marya kicked herself mentally. “I had to search the school for this ‘something’.”

“A bit of running can’t have turned you into a tomato, Marya. What were you doing searching about?” Hélène still laughed, shaking her head.

Marya rubbed her knuckle against her lips. “I was looking for you.”

Hélène stopped laughing and she looked away in shame. “Oh… Why?”

“I wanted to as- offer something.” It sounded stupid but it was the most Marya could come up with.

“That sounds terribly formal.” Hélène pursed her lips into a tight line. “I was thinking about giving or offering something to you as well…? You can go first.”

“Oh no, after you,” Marya gestured for her to speak. “I can wait my turn.”

“No, no. You said it first so you should start,” Hélène argued.

“Kuragin. I give you my permission to speak first.”

“I did not ask for your permission so please- I insist.”

Marya was growing frustrated so she began. “Would you like to –“ She stopped to rethink her choice of words. She was treading dangerously on a thin rope and a slip of a word would expose her. “Would you like to…go out?” _Shit_. “As friends? Will you be my friend, officially?”

“Sure!” Hélène answered and a smile stretched across her lips. “I’d lo- like that. I meant to ask you the same question but I guess I don’t have to now!”

Marya chuckled in relief. “Coincidence, not? So, friends now officially?” She held her hand out to her.

Hélène took the hand and shook it lightly, giving the hand a tight squeeze. “Friends. It’s official.”

“It is.” Marya smiled at her and squeezed back.

“I did not think it would be this simple. I thought it was a lot more complicating than this but no. I’ve never exactly had anyone do this before. You know? I’ve never had someone offer me friendship so willingly,” Hélène babbled.

“That’s changed right here,” Marya claimed proudly.

“In less than a minute,” Hélène added softly, pleased with this change.

The bell rang over their heads, and Marya dreaded letting go of Hélène’s hand and ending the conversation. Expecting the grip to loosen on her hand, she tried pulling away but found her hand glued to the other’s. The grip was still firm and it seemed that Hélène did not want to let go. Crowds of students came flooding the hallways, rushing to get out of the building and Hélène moved to stick close to Marya to avoid being swept away by the flood of students. The girl hugged onto Marya’s arm as they waited for the crowd to simmer down and Marya could hear her own heart beating in her ears. She remained calm, taking slow breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth. The old meditating ways. When the crowds were halved into a small group, she felt a tug at her arm.

“Do you wanna walk back together?” Hélène asked, a glimmer in her dark eyes.

Marya felt her heart flutter. “I’d love to.”

Squealing in glee, Hélène took Marya’s hand in hers and led her out towards the doors. Marya’s free hand clenched the strap of her schoolbag to keep her sanity. Being so close to Hélène was intoxicating, the same word Natasha had used to describe Anatole, but she enjoyed this. She trusted herself, and so did Hélène. This was the largest step the both of them had ever taken. Marya casted her stubbornness aside and went with her decisions with ease, and Hélène allowed herself to be more open, trusting Mary’s word to trust herself. It was refreshing to step out of their shells, to open up, and they were proud.

Marya escorted Hélène back to her home before she returned to hers, having parted with contented goodbyes. It was a good day, one of the most perfect ones of the year. What she would give to her more days like this. Strolling back home, she became carefree for that little while, swaying about on the sidewalks and humming to herself. She hummed a cheerful tune, obviously made-up, and entered her home with the warmest feeling in her chest.

* * *

**Natasha: **Marya? Where did you disappear off to??

**Pierre: **Did something happen?

**Natasha: **Do you have duties? Are we disturbing you? Marya, please answer us. We haven’t seen you since lunch!

**Sonya: **Guys, your panicking is making me panic.

**Natasha: **You haven’t seen her either???

**Sonya: **Nope. I was with Mary all day, still am.

**Natasha: **This is dreadful! Where could she be??

**Marya D.: **At home, my dears. I am at home.

**Pierre: **Thank the Lord you answered. I could faint any moment. We’ve been looking for you and I do not have the energy to walk any longer.

**Marya D.: **Sorry, Pierre. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. A treat.

**Pierre: **Books and vodka?

**Marya D.: **Just the books.

**Pierre: **I was kidding about the vodka.

**Natasha: **You went back early. Why??

**Marya D.: **Too many questions in a day, Natasha. We need to set a quota.

**Natasha: **:D

**Marya D.: **It really is impossible to get mad at you.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marya is lost in her own feelings, and plunges even further.

The morning started off as usual. Marya paced the hallway as she waited for the latecomers, tapping her pen against the side of her book. The heels of her boots clicked against the floor, filling the silence of the empty hallway. As much as Marya was grateful of the title of the head prefect, doing her duties were frustrating. She had gotten used to pacing the hallways until the curfew was over but with how repetitive it got, the more irritated it seemed. Pierre had offered to accompany her for the morning but she did not want be to selfish out of her loneliness and boredom. When she declined his offer, the boy became persistent and stayed with her. He sat by the lockers, refusing to move whenever Marya tried persuading him to go to class without her. He did not answer her but pretended that he was reading his history books.

Natasha and Sonya too had offered their company in which she politely declined. She disliked dragging anyone into her business. Her problems were hers to solve and she could do it herself. Dragging people into her problems and duties would only waste their time as she would not be able to entertain them at all. Being independent was vital to Marya, but it had its flaws. She had heard her friend whine and complain about how she would never ask for help and when help was offered, she would always decline. Like Natasha said, it was not fun being so closed up and handling problems alone. Sonya begged to differ. Sometimes doing things alone was the best alternative laid out on the table and it was often Marya’s first option, and Natasha did not bother arguing.

Pierre remained in his spot, reading away on a chapter about Napoleon while jotting down notes into a notebook. Marya decided to take her attention off the entrance of the school and averted it towards her best friend, moving over to his side. She leaned against the wall and leaned down carefully to peer into Pierre’s exercise book. The page was a mess but understandable. She knelt down beside him and rested an arm on his shoulder to balance herself. Pointing at his notes, she picked up the notebook and narrowed her eyes at his handwriting. Large and clumsily written. Pierre adjusted his glasses and looked up at her then her book, laughing sheepishly at the way Marya looked at her book.

“Real messy, right?” Pierre questioned and ran a hand through his curly black hair. “I can never make clean notes and when I do, I lose them.”

“Bummer… Though, you’ve got splendid notes.” Marya handed the book back to him. “Could I use it sometime?”

“Definitely! Feel free to but do return it. I hate losing my notes,” Pierre said and stood up with a groan.

“Will do, old man,” Marya mumbled and helped him up.

“We are the same age. I am not an old man, Marya. Gosh, I hope it wasn’t Anatole and Hélène who implanted that into you,” Pierre grumbled awkwardly.

“They did not. Came up with it by myself,” Marya retorted and stuck her nose in the air.

“Knowing you, I’m sort of convinced,” Pierre said but he sounded like he was joking.

“You **should** be convinced. I do not go anywhere near those Kuragins when I do not have a reason to,” Marya protested.

“But Hélène –“

“- Is an acquaintance. Full stop. Now, go back to class. You’ve been out here for too long,” Marya interrupted and shooed Pierre, sweeping her hands at him.

“That’s what I’m doing, woman.” Pierre checked his bag for his things then zipped it up. “Do not be late. We have a presentation to do.”

Marya clapped a hand on his back. “Buy me some time, will you? I can’t guarantee that I’ll be on time.”

“I’ll try. So, you’re welcome for keeping you company, and I’ll see you in class.” With that, Pierre left to class

“Thank you very much, Pierre! I do appreciate the company!” Marya called out after him and he turned around to respond with a wide smile, showing her a thumbs-up.

Pierre walked up the stairs and Marya spent the last few minutes pacing again. Her watch beeped and she celebrated internally that her duties were over for the morning. Turning to walk down the hallway, Marya felt a tap on her shoulder and craned her head over her shoulder to see who it was. No one. She felt another tap on the other shoulder and huffed as she turned. No one again. She placed her hands on her hips and spun around. To think that this latecomer had the audacity to joke around instead of going straight to class infuriated Marya. Jabbing a pen in the air, she nearly choked on air when she saw Hélène standing behind her with a grin. Slumping her shoulders, she pocketed her pen and shook her head lightly, bringing a hand to her forehead to rub her face, calming herself down.

“Good morning, Marya,” Hélène hummed.

“Good morning, Hélène. Explain, please,” Marya mumbled and pursed her lips.

“I promise I’m late for a really good reason. May I borrow you for a second?” Hélène asked and looked around. “It won’t take long. I’ll make it quick. That is if you’re free now.”

“I don’t doubt how good your reason is but I need to hear it, Hélène,” Marya repeated and looked down at her, her expression softening. “With a valid reason, I can and will let you go. _Borrowing_ me is not necessary.”

“That isn’t why I’m borrowing you. Come and you’ll see.” Hélène’s fingers closed around Marya’s wrist and she brought them to a secluded corner.

“Why won’t you tell me?” Marya asked as she followed.

“Ever heard of a surprise?” Hélène asked her back and chuckled gleefully.

“Wow, surprises…” Marya cheered sarcastically. “Should I be scared or careful?”

“Funny, Dmitrievna,” Hélène snorted and scoffed lightly but it was not a rude motion.

Crammed in the dark corner, Hélène released Marya’s hand and she flung her bag in front of her. Unzipping it, she dug through her books and papers for something. Marya was patient, swaying left and right in anticipation. Usually being led to dark corners of the school was not the best to present surprises. As the school’s very own head prefect, Marya had seen many things in these dark corners that always failed to conceal whatever not-so-secret rendezvous couples attempted in the middle of schooling hours. They were sights Marya wished she could unsee but with occurrences nearly so daily, she grew used to them, much like she had with Hélène’s attitude and smiling. As she waited for Hélène to complete her treasure hunt, Marya looked towards the pillar that casted a shadow over the corner. It looked normal until Marya peered closer to the scratches carved into the structure. Initials littered the pillar but some of them were crossed out by aggressive scratches. Most of the scratches were fresh, the powdered material of the wall visible along the outlines and it almost made Marya snort. They were the couples that never lasted and they were also the ones that thought vandalizing school property meant forever for their relationship. She ran a hand along the scratches then rubbed her fingers together, feeling the coarse friction of the powdered material between her fingertips. Her mind was elsewhere, her eyes fixed on nothing.

A triumphant gasp made her look away from the pillar and towards Hélène who produced a flat red velvet box from her bag. It was too fancy for an ordinary school stationery and too flat to be a spectacle box. Marya moved closer to stand in front of Hélène, almost cornering the girl but her confused gaze was on the box. Handling the box with care, Hélène held the box with both her hands and dropped her bag to the floor with a loud thud. She smiled up at Marya and thrusted the box into Marya’s outstretched hand, an excited giggle sliding past her lips. Accepting the box, she studied it while wiping her powdery hand on her skirt. She was not dirtying something that looked so luxurious so she handled it with just as much care that Hélène had displayed. She did not need an order to open it. Grasping the clasp of the box, she flipped the top open in a graceful twist of her hand and she nearly fainted. The most she could offer as a reaction was a choked noise and wide eyes. In the box was a necklace. Its chain was an enchanting gold, and a red ruby rimmed in gold hung at the end. Despite the lack of light in the corner, the ruby glimmered bewitchingly, drawing Marya in like it had casted a spell on her.

“What is this?” Marya forced out as she scrutinized the necklace.

“It’s a necklace…?” Hélène answered, finding the question a little stupid.

“No, no, no. What is it for?” Marya rephrased her sentence and traced a finger along the chain gently.

“It’s a gift for you,” Hélène answered and her smile stretched wider. “I misplaced it this morning and it took me an hour to look for it which is why I was late.”

“Is there an occasion for this?” Marya mumbled, finally looking up at Hélène.

“A toast to our new friendship. I thought it suited you. Gold and red. When I saw it at the jewellery store, I thought of you immediately and I had to get it! Given the appropriate occasion,” Hélène hummed proudly.

Marya shook her head. “I-I can’t accept this. It’s too precious for me. Too gorgeous…” she rambled.

“Quit your excuses. You sound like me, and we both know you would not want to turn into me,” Hélène joked and laughed at her own joke.

“Hélène. You should not throw your money on luxuries for me. I-“

“Hush now, mon chere.”

Hélène picked up the necklace nimbly and moved to stand behind Marya. Marya barely reacted swiftly enough when she felt Hélène’s hand push her head to look downwards. The cool touch of the necklace glazed over her collarbone and she shuddered lightly, letting out a slow exhale. Hélène worked her way through the clasp and it clicked in place after a bit of fumbling. Marya’s hand found its way to the ruby, stroking the priceless stone appreciatively as her other hand toyed with the gold chain. Hélène smacked away Marya’s hands and held her shoulders firmly to stop any movements.

“Let me see, let me see~” Hélène said in a sing-song voice as she returned to stand in front of Marya, admiring the necklace on her. “Gorgeous.”

“The necklace or me?” Marya blurted out.

“Both, but more of you. A necklace isn’t complete without its wearer,” Hélène stated and poked Marya’s forehead.

Marya blushed and shook her head. “I’m nothing compared to you but thank you.”

“Now isn’t about me. It’s about you, dear Marya, but I’ll take that compliment,” Hélène murmured and chuckled softly.

Too busy toying with the accessory, Marya wanted to thank her but much to her disappointment, Hélène was gone in a flash after muttering something about not wanting to delay Marya any longer. She had missed her chance for she was too distracted by necklace, and she still was. Fumbling with the chain, she stepped out of the shadow and made her way to class. She knew she was going to see Hélène later, almost entirely confident, and when she did, she was going to thank her. She jogged to class and placed a hand over the ruby to stop it from hitting her chin repeatedly. It was not frustrating nor was it the concern for bruising her chin. She was more concerned about the gem, not wanting the slightest scratch ruining it. Reaching her class, she apologized profusely to the teacher who barely acknowledged her and she tucked the necklace under her shirt as she jogged to her seat. She sat down and shoved her bag under her desk, wiggling in her seat for a comfortable position. She was unaware that Pierre was watching but even if she did she did not care.

“Took you long enough,” Pierre mumbled and rubbed his nose.

“You know why,” Marya whispered back and raised her brows at him.

Pierre’s eyes lit up and he smiled cheekily. “Your favorite Kuragin. I completely understand.”

“She was late and did the honors of delaying me with her,” Marya told Pierre but he was not buying any of her excuses, flashing her the most mischievous grin she had ever seen on him. “Look at you, already shipping me off with Hélène. We haven’t spoken much.”

“_Haven’t_ implies that you will speak to her more,” Pierre teased and ruffled his hair lightly, fluffing it up.

“What’s gotten into you? Did Natasha introduce you to her romance novels? Those chick-flicks that she carries with her everyday?” Marya asked and pinched Pierre’s arm playfully.

“I’m having fun. The fun that I deserve after stressing my ass off for that math competition,” Pierre groaned exhaustedly but the satisfaction of pure bliss washed over his expression. “For a day, Marya, let me enjoy myself.”

Marya gave in to him and tugged him to her side, an arm draped over his shoulders. “You don’t to ask for permission to enjoy yourself. Just allow yourself to relax. The permission comes from yourself, you know? You generate the stress, you degenerate it as well.”

“Makes sense… Makes plenty of sense,” Pierre mumbled incoherently, smiling up at his best friend with a grateful smile then sat up. “Right, the work you missed during the first 15 minutes of class.”

That made Marya hiss under her breath. The mention of work was as awful as receiving it. Like Pierre, she needed a break herself. The tiresome pressure of duties and classwork combined was a heavy weight on her shoulders, and it drained most of her energy that she needed to function for the day. Whenever it came near to the end of the day, she would already be overworking herself to push every bit of energy left in her to carry on with her schedule. She could not afford any hiccups in her timetable in fear that she would distort everything, which could lead to a disaster. Unfinished homework, an uncleaned apartment, neglected houseplants, an empty fridge; the never-ending worries drove her insane. Life was definitely not in her favor and she felt that time was an illusion that caused her panic of not completing anything punctually.

In painful silence, Marya scowled at the worksheet Pierre had slid over to her, across the border that connected their desks. Words scattered on the worksheet in disarray. Questions with sub-questions stretched down the single sheet of paper, front and back, and Marya could barely read anything for how small the font was. The words glared up at her in an ugly blur of black and white, tormenting her like an optical illusion to mess with her mind. Gnashing her teeth together, she squinted her eyes and brought the paper close to her face, reading the questions with the profound feeling of disquiet. She fumbled with her shirt in search of comfort to tame the panic that was bubbling within her. The shirt was no help. Bringing a hand up to her neck, she held her breath when she brushed her fingertips against the icy gold chain around her neck. The accessory sat on her neck, burning against her warm skin. A reminder of Hélène’s cold touch, literally and figuratively. They were opposites. Marya, a fearsome girl with a burning pride, and Hélène, a perfectly crafted porcelain doll, cold to the skin. She toyed with the necklace, twirling her fingers along the chain into a stiff twist then withdrew her fingers, letting it pool down her neck before restarting. Toying with the necklace put her mind off her worries and she answered the questions on the worksheet in the calmest state she could maintain.

The glow of the ruby caught Pierre’s eye and he gawked at how gorgeous it was. An expensive gift, no doubt. He had never seen the necklace in his years of friendship with Marya. He had seen other pieces of Marya’s luxurious accessories, many in which were passed down to her from her family, but the one she wore presently was very new. He noticed the red velvet box peeking out of Marya’s bag, which confirmed his guess that the necklace was new.

“That is a beautiful necklace,” Pierre whispered and pointed at the ruby with the butt of his pen.

Marya stopped writing and gave a stiff nod. “Thanks…” She did not continue her work for her mind debated with the statement that stung at the tip of her tongue, longing to be shared. Pierre did not ask any questions about the necklace, leaving the compliment there for her to take, but she was tempted to state a little something extra. “It’s from Hélène.” Regret did not strike. She only felt a weight lighten from her shoulders and she could breathe properly again.

“I figured.”

“What?”

“I said, I figured. It’s quite obvious.”

Marya nearly spluttered in disbelief and she could feel a lump forming in her throat. “Really? How was it obvious?”

“Would a list of answers be enough?” Pierre offered and chuckled softly.

“Anything-!”

“Where shall I start? You did not complain about her delaying you for class… Um- Hélène has excellent taste in jewellery and a specific preference, and has the money to afford that. And, the entire school knows that you two were friends because of her sharing the news with her brother. News about our queen of society travels like wildfire here,” Pierre answered, counting his fingers with each answer he gave.

“I swear... The gossips and crybabies of school are dreadful little things. Anatole especially, that pestiferous mouse of a boy,” Marya complained and rolled her eyes exaggeratedly.

“No offense but you’re utterly clueless,” Pierre muttered and shook his head in merriment. “This amuses me.”

“So, you’re the Hélène expert now, aren’t you?” Marya asked and laughed dryly at him.

“I did date her,” Pierre protested.

“Touché… Care to enlighten me?” Marya mumbled dubiously, lowering her head sheepishly.

Pierre eyed her suspiciously. Furrowing his brows, his expression softened and he placed a hand over his chest. “Aw… The Terrible Dragon has a crush on her ex-enemy. Adorable,” Pierre gushed.

Marya snapped her head up to look at him. “Why, you- I did not imply that!”

“You’re not denying it, and you don’t need to hint anything. I have eyes, Marya. Besides, you’re not doing a good job hiding your feelings,” Pierre said nonchalantly.

“Do not breathe a word of this to anyone, Pierre. No one can know!” Marya cried out urgently and Pierre clasped a hand over her mouth. She had forgotten that they were in class and her face blushed scarlet when all eyes turned to stare.

“As long as you don’t do yourself a favour of screaming it out, my lips are sealed,” Pierre whispered, withdrawing his hand when Marya swatted at it.

“Thank you,” Marya breathed and wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.

Pierre shifted in his seat and leaned forward, elbows propped on his knees and his hand holding his head. “What would you like to know about her?”

“Anything.”

And anything was what Pierre gave her. They spoke in whispers, head lowered to duck behind the pair that sat in front of them which obscured their teacher’s view of them. Marya had never been so invested in listening to Pierre’s love life, though he did not delve too deep into Hélène’s private life. He storied about his dates, the best ones out of the many, told Marya about the real Hélène before she turned cold towards him and every detail surprised Marya. Discovering the unknown parts of Hélène was like exploring a labyrinth cluttered up in traps and dead ends at nearly every twist and turn. Her smile was the entrance of that labyrinth, a pleasant and pretty façade to stop anyone from diving in too deep, to stop anyone trying to open her up or explore the depths of her secrets. The girl hid herself with more security than Fort Knox and Area 51 had combined, and it was terrifying and depressing to live in such a way.

Pierre told Marya that he was casted away by Hélène for he had attempted to open her up. It blossomed a hideous argument between them, ending with Hélène declaring that they broke up in an unsettlingly calm tone, and it was then when Pierre saw the mask form.

Marya was once like everyone, those who assumed that Hélène was the heartless queen of society and the juiciest topic for gossip. After the incident not many days ago, when she saw Hélène’s composure crumbled into nothing, it changed the way she perceived the girl. Behind the snarky comments, the obnoxious flirting and flaunting, there was her true self, locked away and sheltered under the protection of her façade. If Pierre and herself were having this conversation a week earlier, she would have been sceptical, arguing and sneering at everything he said. It made her grimace as she thought back of her behavior. _Revolting_.

“Be careful, Marya. With your heart,” Pierre warned and it snatched her attention.

“Why?”

Pierre plucked his spectacles off the bridge of his nose and sighed. “She can be the sweetest, most loving girl you'll ever know but when she breaks your heart, you might not be able to repair it. She'll leave it to splinter your hands if you try to pick up the pieces.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Marya commented and pursed her lips into a thin line.

“It is… I’m telling you this because I don’t want you going through the same pain as I did, but I do not wish to hold you back,” Pierre affirmed her.

“How thoughtful of you…” Marya paused, her hand ceasing to a stop and letting go of the chain she had been fiddling with. “Honestly, I never thought you would encourage this. I was expecting a reminder that I despised her or that I'm being a hypocrite.”

Then I would be a horrible friend,” Pierre said with an airy laugh. “It took a bit of revaluating. If I were only a friend, I’d have resorted to telling you off.”

“Thank you for your honesty,” Marya muttered, on the verge of knocking her forehead with her already balled fist.

“But even so and as your best friend-” Pierre spoke up. “I thoroughly encourage this.”

Marya could not help but gape at him. “I… I do not deserve you. Pierre, your emboldening has touched me dearly, it has, but there are so many other things that forbid me of this pursuit.”

“Such as?”

“The gossips. I would be a laughing stock. I could be shamed! And the church, my parents! I’d be titled ‘the sinner of the Akhrosimova family’.” Marya buried her face in her hands and let out a frustrated growl.

“It’s none of that that is forbidding you. You’re overthinking,” Pierre rationalized and draped an arm over her.

“Am I?” Marya grumbled.

“Yes. In case you haven’t noticed, this crush of yours also reduced you into a whiny wreck. Have you been listening to yourself? How you reason and whine at us? Whatever happened to our Terrible Dragon?” Pierre asked and rubbed her arm.

“Dissolved into a sensitive bowl of mush,” Marya said but a laugh bubbled up her chest.

“Ah, but you still have humor left,” Pierre stated and laughed with her.

Marya straightened her back and tucked her necklace under her shirt, her doubts vanishing like they never existed. “Now that I’m aware of how sickly I must look squandering in worry, I shall never resort to sulking anymore.”

“Atta girl! It’s a wonder, really, how you pick yourself up so easily,” Pierre told her and glanced towards the whiteboard in the front of the class. “Teach me someday.”

“Ridiculous boy,” Marya snorted and ruffled his hair. “Get back to work. We’ll proceed with our talk later.”

“I love your sudden enthusiasm to do work,” Pierre squealed joyfully as he turned towards his desk, picking up his pen and spectacles.

They dissolved into silence as they finished up their given assignments. Now, Marya could focus on her work after having released the plague that had been swarming her mind in a painful headache. It was relieving letting out her worries to her trustiest and oldest friend. She could share anything Pierre without needing to filter her words and the boy would listen to her wholeheartedly. She was not the sort to bottle up her feelings, she hated doing that for it only ended up exploding in the end. If she could repay Pierre in some way for every consultation they have had, she would be broke! She would have to sell her house off and even give away her house plants to repay him in full, but it still would not be enough. Maybe the vodka he had asked for would suffice.

Tapping her pen against her chin, she gnawed on her bottom lip then ran her tongue along her teeth, humming softly to herself. Poking Pierre on the cheek with her pen, she clicked her pen noisily and furrowed her brows.

“Do you think she’ll accept me?” she asked, her voice carrying no expectation for a specific answer.

“She will…” Pierre told her confidently.

“You sound very sure,” Marya said and brushed it off with a laugh.

“I know it… That’s because she’s happy, Marya,” Pierre told her and smiled sadly to himself, and Marya caught it. Her own expression fell when she heard what he said next, but butterflies fluttered vigorously in her stomach. “You made her the happiest in a few weeks… Something that I failed to do with two years.”

* * *

The teacher dismissed the class right on the dot, and Pierre and Marya hurried themselves, flinging themselves through the door to get out of the dreadful room. Students poured out after them in a stampede and Marya managed to drag Pierre away from the roaring crowd before they could trample over the unsuspecting boy. With their backs against the wall, avoiding the chances of being washed up into the crowds, they stood on their tiptoes and waited patiently.

“Nothing like a busy afternoon, huh?” Pierre muttered as he watched the crowd move in oddly neat lines.

“I hate it. It’s humid and if they could walk any slower, I might erupt,” Marya murmured as she shot scowls at those whose eyes darted towards her for a glance.

“I could not agree more,” Pierre wheezed and tugged the collar of his shirt.

In a blur, a figure leapt out of the crowd with an energetic wave of her arm. Marya almost melted, but it was not because of the humidity. Meeting Hélène's eyes with a sloppy effort, a smile in turn of a greeting but Pierre murmured a kind ‘good afternoon’. The hallway heated increasingly and cold beads of sweat trickled down the back of Marya’s neck. She was the same sensitive bowl of mush an hour ago and she could not gather herself back into solidity and composure. Who knew that sharing one’s feelings would drive them further into them? She had plunged head first into puppy love for Hélène and it was too late to swim for the surface.

“We weren’t expecting to see you. How are you, Hélène?” Pierre asked, trying to strike up a conversation.

“I’m quite alright, Petrushka. I tend to be spontaneous so do anticipate less of me next time,” Hélène hummed and pinched Pierre’s cheek affectionately. “Hello, Marya, mon cherie.”

“Hélène. It is indeed a surprise to see you at this time of day. You’re usually with your brother and Fyodor Dolokhov,” Marya stated boldly, keeping her head up high that the necklace slid out of her shirt.

“They’re off together. Flirting, no doubt,” Hélène scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Those lovesick idiots forgot that I existed and watching them ogle and coo at each other was giving me a migraine.”

“I beg your pardon?” Pierre said aloud.

“Don’t be surprised, Pierre. You’ve known for a while now. Remember, we live in an accepting society! To think about it, the social benefit of their love life is that neither of you will have to worry about anyone’s girlfriends being stolen since they are so occupied,” Hélène said coolly like it was nothing.

“What pleasant news for them,” Marya mumbled awkwardly, unsure of how else to answer. “Without them, you sought our company?”

“You make me sound desperate! No, no, Maryuska.” Marya’s eyes lit at the new nickname but Hélène talked on. “I wanted to invite you and Pierre out for ice-cream. I’ve had it planned for a while but I could not find the appropriate day to ask since our timetables differ.”

“I appreciate that you took our schedules into consideration,” Marya spoke too formally to hide the trepidation creeping up on her.

“I couldn’t be selfish,” Hélène told her and swayed back and forth. “So, ice-cream or nah? I thought given the circumstances that it’s a scorching hot summer day, ice-cream would be lovely.”

Pierre drew his bag close to his chest and stepped away from the wall. “I’ve got a mathlete meeting later. Sorry, Hélène. As tempting and appealing as ice-cream is, I cannot miss this meeting.”

“Got a competition coming?” Hélène asked and folded her arms over her chest.

“Yeah! International competitions been piling up. Enjoy yourselves. I’ll be off,” Pierre called out and stepped into the crowd.

Marya did not miss the sneaky wink that Pierre gave her before the crowd drowned him in their flood. He was swept away through the hallways and the bushy curls Marya’s eyes had been trailing disappeared from her view. Alone with Hélène, she twisted her head deliberately in her direction and inhaled sharply through her nose. That smile of hers met her vision and her own lips twitched into a smile.

“Marya? You, me, ice-cream~?” Hélène asked, her voice alluring.

“Right now?” Marya questioned and perked a brow.

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Let’s go.”

“Marvellous! I know a place that has quality ice-cream. Reasonable prices too,” Hélène exclaimed and grasped Marya’s hand in hers, and soon they were jogging in the crowd. “I’ll pay.”

“You really don’t have to,” Marya mumbled but did not put in any effort to sound argumentative.

“Too bad. You don’t have a choice,” Hélène chimed.

Marya clicked her tongue and scrunched her nose. “This is like a date.”

“Never said it wasn’t.”

Marya’s hand tightened around Hélène’s spasmodically. A date. The thought circled her mind like a recurring dream. It was not a bad thing but she had not prepared herself for this. Her inexperience of having a proper love life made her entirely oblivious as to how all this worked and she never did bother about it once. Finding herself in the situation, she was lost, and the only solution was to let Hélène take the lead, and she did that willingly. The Terrible Dragon and Head Prefect submitting into the lead of a girl she hated less than a week ago, a sight to behold. All for a crush, all for love.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marya falls deeper into her feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, gang! I am back with another chapter! No warnings in this one, just enjoyment. Hope this is good enough and i'll have to re-edit if there are any mistakes so yeahh. Enjoy!!
> 
> Also, Marya is a soft bean.

**Pierre: **Hello, Natasha?

**Natasha: **Hi, Pierre! How’re you?

**Pierre: **Am well, thank you. I’m just texting you to inform you that Marya’s gone out with Hélène so there is no need to look for her

**Natasha: **Is it a date???!?

**Pierre: **Dunno about that. Contain your excitement, Natasha. Our poor friend doesn’t need a questionnaire while she’s relaxing.

**Natasha: **But the details, Pierre! I wish to be happy for my best friend!

**Pierre: **Ask later.

**Natasha: **I can’t promise you that I’ll hold in my excitement but I will try. Their friendship is blooming! Isn’t this amazing???

**Pierre: **Yes, yes. It is.

**Natasha: **What do you think they’re doing? Do you think they’ll get even closer? I’d love to welcome Hélène into our circle of friends.

**Pierre: **Wow. You really do need a quota with your questions…

**Natasha: **I’m not sorry!

* * *

The sun scorched Marya’s ghostly skin into a painful red. If she were to walk any longer in the satanic heat, she would pass out any moment and melt on the ground. Picking up her feet had become a labouring effort and her vision was a blur. Hélène, on the other hand, had been skipping through the length of school to their destination. Where she got her energy, Marya wanted to know desperately. Thankfully, the ice-cream parlor was not as far as she had estimated. Stepping into the little shop, a whiff of cold air welcomed Marya and the red on her skin faded into a bright pink. The cold brought her dormant energy back into function and the tremor in her legs seized into a sturdy halt. Hélène had disappeared from her side, but Marya found her immediately, with her palms pressed flat against the glass of the display counter with a child-like glee. Marya stood beside her and studied the array of flavors available at the counter. The colors of the variety were attractively enticing and Marya understood why Hélène was so excited for the ice cream.

Everything about the ice-cream parlor was attractive, not just the ice cream. A glossy layer of pastel pink and white stripes wallpapered every inch of the walls, decorated with neon signs that spelled out quotes with awful dessert related puns. The tables were a polished pastel colors, blue, lavender, green, pink, you name it. Comfortable cushioned upholstered chairs were arranged neatly, tucked into the sides of the tables. The longer tables were equipped with booth chairs that were equally as comfortable as the upholstered ones. The sweet scent of the treats in the parlor filled the air, the warmth of hot fudge trailing along with it.

“Have you decided what flavor you want, Maryushka?” Hélène asked as she lifted her head to look at Marya.

“Not yet,” Marya answered as her eyes inspected the many choices. “And you?”

“The usual, mint chocolate chip,” Hélène chirped, waving over a staff member to place her order.

Marya almost laughed. “Mint? What an odd choice.”

“It’s delicious! The mint doubles the cold so it’s the most perfect flavour for summer,” Hélène argued and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Might as well have a chilled piece of gum. It’s the same thing, aside from the chocolate,” Marya said then gave her order to the staff member.

“Please, you’ve obviously never tried it,” Hélène scoffed, paying for both of their desserts.

“I don’t want to,” Marya murmured and took the cup with her chosen flavour, strawberry cheesecake.

Hélène peered over to look at Marya’s ice cream, snorting lightly. “Strawberry cheesecake? We might as well have gone to Cheesecake Factory.”

“It’s still better than your toothpaste flavored one, weirdo,” Marya protested and guided her to a table, settling down with a groan.

“Debatable and laughable,” Hélène stated and slumped into a chair, sinking into its comfort. “And I’m not the only weirdo. We’re arguing over ice cream so that makes both of us.”

“Absolutely not!” Marya exclaimed, coming up with no other argument.

They each took a spoonful of their dessert and shoved it into their mouths, never breaking eye contact. A spoonful after another, the girls became too indulged in their treats that they did not speak, savoring the icy sensation as the ice cream slid down their throats. Marya ate with proper manners, eating each scoop whenever she swallowed the previous spoonful. She dabbed her napkin on the corners of her lips that were slighted stained with a bit of ice-cream then folded it up for later uses. Hélène did not display the same mannerism. She wolfed down the ice cream in large scoops, ignoring the smudges of pastel green on her lips. It looked as if it was her very last time eating it and that she would never have the chance to eat it again. She looked almost feral but Marya struggled to bite back a laugh. The posture she had envisioned Hélène to have, considering that she came from a rather posh and rich family, it was non-existent, but she was not disappointed.

Hélène was undeniably the hardest and most confusing person to understand. Behind the poise deportment was a girl who lived her life to the fullest. Wildly and carelessly. It was hard to find truth in her intentions or words, and reading through those dark brown eyes was like staring into a void of nothingness. She carried no emotions, made herself unreadable with her smile as a false exterior. A Kuragin trait that she possessed competently, unlike Anatole who was a literal open book. The youngest of them did not stand out, a small mouse huddled in a corner, in the dark. Goodness knew, he could be the worst of the siblings.

Marya’s tolerance depleted the longer she observed how messily Hélène was devouring her treat. Placing her half-consumed cup of ice cream, she picked up a new napkin and rose from her seat to reach Hélène.

“Your ice cream isn’t going to run away, Hélène. Would you, please, slow down? You could choke,” Marya murmured as she wiped the smudges around the other’s lips.

Hélène froze and lowered her cup, waiting for Marya to finish cleaning her dirtied lips. “Can’t help it, mon chere but, thank you for the reminder. Anatole and Fedya get rather annoyed when it happens. They say it’s humiliating.”

“It happens often?” Marya inquired and sat back down, putting the used napkin aside.

“Yeah. It’s nasty, I know,” Hélène mumbled but smiled it off.

“It is nasty and very unwomanly,” Marya agreed with a nod of her head.

Hélène shifted in her seat and her eyes wandered in between the remainder of her ice cream and Marya. She rationalized her thoughts, collecting them and organizing them based on what felt most suitable to say. After enough filtering, she spoke. “I don’t actually get to have things that I want. Things like this. Ice-cream or desserts, anything that papa thinks is indecent, I don’t get any of those when I ask.”

Marya’s spoon paused at her lips. “You really are afraid of that ice cream running away.” It was a half joke but there was sympathy in her voice.

Hélène agreed wholeheartedly. “Exactly! That’s a way of putting it.” She laughed to herself and stretched her arms out over her head.

“Don’t get me wrong, dear, but I thought your father gave you everything. You dress in rich clothing, drape yourself in glamorous jewellery and spend your money like water. Hearing you confess this, I have to admit, I am stunned,” Marya murmured and rubbed the back of her neck.

“If I were you, I would be too. Papa is a very strict man. He only wants the best for me so he restricts what he thinks can ruin me,” Hélène told her, unbent by the topic.

“Doesn’t seem like it in school but it isn’t my place to make any assumptions. We’re still strangers after all,” Marya said and took a bite of her ice cream.

“True... I’ll stop talking if you want. I wouldn’t want to bore you to death with my life stories,” Hélène mumbled and shook her head, but her smile remained. “Go ahead and eat up your ice cream unless you want to slurp on a milkshake.”

“You can share anything. You’re not boring me. As friends, I guess we’re taking a step forward, getting to know each other,” Marya mumbled, scooping a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth.

“Lord, we sound like a couple,” Hélène joked and rubbed her forehead, giggling.

Marya squeaked inaudibly and straightened up. “We do.”

They returned to their desserts, eating in smaller bites. Marya did not know what to do with the new pieces of information that Hélène had shared. She had not expected her to confess bits of her personal life, even though it was a controlled amount. A moment of realization struck her about the queen of society. Despite the many gossips she had heard of Hélène, she barely knew anything else about her. She was trained to put up a flawless façade, Marya applauded her for that, but it was strange. _An external wall to hide what may be hiding inside_. The thought became more of a question the more she lingered on it and soon, it became stupid. She laughed to herself internally for overthinking. Pierre would have laughed and scolded her altogether if he were present, but he was not to Marya’s relief.

Hélène could not peel her eyes off of Marya, her dark eyes glittering under the tender lighting of the parlor. Had Marya been anyone else, she would have cursed at herself to damnation for exposing a part of her personal life. Kuragins did not do this. They did not confess or stoop for anyone, not even for their own family members. They were created to lie, be exemplary and honorable, a masterpiece of perfection. Those traits were broken in less than an hour, all because of a confession that could possibly stain her father’s name. What was she doing complaining about him and her unfulfilled demands? She should be grateful. Gratefulness and appreciation should be all that articulated if a mention of her father were to slide off her tongue. Still, no regret drenched her, not yet. What she had shared with Marya did not bother her but she felt ease that the other had listened to her without complain. In turn, Marya had told her own truths of her perceptions on herself. At least she knew how the school perceived her to be. A spoilt brat. Marya knowing the truth was enough.

Hélène poked at her ice cream with her spoon, carving a rose with the remains of the cold dessert. She glanced at Marya briefly then at the ruby necklace that glowed under the light. Her toast to their friendship. Friendship was a foreign word in her vocabulary, a word that rarely occurred to her. Leaving her freshly carved rose on the table, she picked at the hem of her shirt.

“I’ve never had anything like this,” she spoke, almost ashamed with herself.

“A date?” Marya asked, the words coming out naturally.

“No! I’ve had plenty of dates in my life. Not that,” Hélène stammered, quickly correcting herself. “I’ve never had someone so inclined to offer me friendship.”

"You said that before," Marya mumbled, shovelling some ice cream onto her spoon. 

"I have but it still surprises me," Hélène said with a light shrug.

"I should have requested an emphasis before jumping to conclusions. For the Queen of Society, you should have many people wanting to be friends with you,” Marya said while jabbing her ice cream, trying to copy the rose Hélène had made.

“Bold of you to assume we live in a pure and innocent world where everyone is friends, especially the most popular students. Fake friends exist, Marya. The girls crave the attention that I get and when they get it, they leave me. As for the boys… Rascals. Their sex drive runs faster than their own minds, if they have one,” Hélène scoffed, more at herself than the girls and boys she had addressed.

“Then why do hang out with them if you are aware of their intentions?” Marya questioned and groaned, giving up on her attempt of the rose carving.

Hélène let out a distressed huff. “I don’t know… Maybe it’s because of the false hope that always nags at me, telling me the friendships will last.” She let out a harsh laugh. “Silly naïve me.”

“I see… Okay, I promise, you get your turn to ask me questions as I have more to ask… Do you mind?” Marya mumbled, allowing the kindness she kept closeted deep inside to seep through a crack.

“Not at all. Ask away, mon cherie,” Hélène answered, smiling to prove that she did not mind.

“Why give in to the nagging? You’re an intelligent person, Hélène. You have the ability to debate with me, and so far, you’re the only person who has ever won against me…” Hélène’s smile hardened into a smirk but Marya decided to ignore that. “Why can’t you win against yourself?”

The smirk faded. “I don’t know.” Her face was straight but the way she shifted uncomfortably told otherwise. “I was less lonely for sure but I longed for something else. Something more than being friends. What am I even saying?”

“You want to be accepted… Accepted for who you are.”

Hélène looked up sharply. “Yeah… That.”

Marya sighed and reached a hand out to hold Hélène’s, a friendly gesture, nothing more. Their fingers laced together, Hélène’s grip tight on Marya’s but their gazes did not meet. Marya’s heart seized in pity for her Hélène. She could not believe that she failed to see through the girl’s mistakes. Having a reputation and beauty meant nothing to Hélène. They only played assets she was cursed to own, she never asked for them. What Hélène wanted was to be accepted for being herself but even she could not show herself to the world. That darned wall the Kuragin family shielded themselves with restricted them of anything, except for Anatole. That boy had everything he could ever ask for from defying the ways of being a Kuragin but he had no regrets. Hélène was trapped and Marya wished she had the power to free her.

Presently, Hélène had become vulnerable so easily, it made Marya tremble at how a girl who was once so stoic could be fragile in front of her. She had done nothing to break the wall Hélène had built over her years of living but she had torn down that wall to open up to her. Why open up to her? Why now? Why did she not open up to Pierre like this when they dated? She could not muster the courage to ask all her why-related questions so she tucked them at the back of her head. Perhaps another day.

Hélène played with Marya’s hand, running her fingers along the smooth pale skin. The feeling of her nails dragging down on her soft skin felt electrifying, goose bumps forming along her arm.

“Do I get to ask my question now?” Hélène asked, emphasizing on the singular form of ‘question’.

“You do.”

“Did you really hate me?”

A beat. “No…”

“Are you joking or something?” Hélène started in disbelief, narrowing her eyes at Marya.

“You wanted honesty, I delivered,” Marya stated sternly. “But, I did dislike you for being annoying.”

“Hah- There’s the catch. Your answer was almost unbelievable,” Hélène said airily and clapped her hands together.

“I’m not finished. Your annoying presence was entertaining,” Marya continued and Hélène drew her attention to listen to her. “Busting you for being late in the morning and our pathetic debates are really fun. You play quite the joker in my life, and I’m fairly grateful to have someone amusing.”

“More amusing than your little gang?” Hélène asked and giggled teasingly.

“Don’t push it, Kuragin,” Marya warned and Hélène raised her hands in surrender.

“Just joking. Well, thank you and you’re welcome. Arguing with you for a few years has been a pleasure,” Hélène said, lowering her head in a mocking bow.

“The pleasure is mine,” Marya responded, bowing in the same manner as Hélène did.

Their ice cream date had kindled into an intimate disclosure of truth and rawness. No one was cowering away neither was anyone donning a mask. Marya herself was not someone entirely expressive for she had the mind-set that her problems were hers to solve and that she should not involve others by sharing it. That was her. The stubbornly independent Dragon. It was tough letting out her stresses and she was trying to keep up with Hélène’s openness to sharing. It was also ironic how Marya turned out to be the more reserved one compared to Hélène. This was laughable but Marya supressed it to avoid looking like a mad woman.

Hélène suddenly burst into laughter, and Marya did not have to worry anymore about looking like a mad woman. There was no one in the parlor to stare at them and the staff went about their usual business so it was barely humiliating. Her laughter filled the air and her ears, a merry sound to hear but for whatever reason, she looked like a mad woman nonetheless.

“What’s so funny?” Marya asked, almost laughing at how hysterical Hélène was.

“I recalled the first time we argued. It was after Pierre introduced us when I was 14 and you were 15. We didn’t argue in front of him but it was a miracle that Pierre did not see through our terrible acting,” Hélène said in between laughs.

“I remember that!” Marya exclaimed, the memory playing as clear as day in her head. “We quarrelled over our socks because we were wearing the same pair! It was so idiotic of us.”

“Says the girl who started it after Pierre left us for a second. And I quote, ’The lace of your socks don’t match your boots. It’s hideous’,” Hélène said in her best impression of Marya.

“And you worsened the situation by adding, ‘You dare insult mine when yours is fraying and torn. Try again’,” Marya added in a similar alluring air of Hélène’s voice.

“The bond of rivalry began on that very day and it never stopped,” Hélène remarked and giggled loudly.

“Not for three years, it hasn’t! Look where we are now. Still arguing over whose ice cream is best. It’s like we never grew up,” Marya said and joined Hélène in her fit of laughter.

“We can’t get enough of each other, can we? Always searching for a reason to fight,” Hélène sighed contentedly, wiping a tear in the corner of her eye from laughing too much.

“We’re stuck together,” Marya murmured, shaking her head with a smile.

“We really are.”

3 years, and they stuck together. That was longer than Pierre’s and Hélène’s relationship had lasted. The cliché of friends involved in the war of breakup never happened between Marya’s group of friends and Hélène. They still welcomed her and treated her like an old friend, even Marya did, except that her ways of accepting her were more hostile with the usual quarrelling. It was unusual. Even with the gossips and rumors that floated around their school, they clung to that rivalry for so long and it made them nearly inseparable; like best friends were.

Prodding at her thoughts, Marya did not notice Hélène holding up a spoon of her ice cream, hovering it close to her lips. She only noticed what she was doing when the coolness came in contact with her lips, and she raised a brow in question.

“Since we aren’t arguing about which flavor is better, try some of it,” Hélène hummed, tempting her lips with the spoon. “You might like it.”

“The toothpaste?” Marya sneered as she looked at the frozen mint green blob on the spoon with distaste.

“With chocolate chips. Come on. It won’t hurt to try something new, right?” Hélène murmured with that soft silky voice of hers. It enchanted Marya instantly.

Parting her lips, Hélène fed her the spoonful then withdrew her hand. Marya took her time evaluating the flavor. It was strange but it was not bad. Sweet, icy, sweeter with the chocolate chips and refreshing. Her mouth felt cooling and the sweetness lingered on her tongue. When she swallowed, the iciness of the mint flowed down her throat and it almost made her shiver. Nodding in approval, she looked at Hélène in defeat. She had contradicted her own words of spite for the mint flavor but undoubtedly, it was marvellous.

“Mint is actually splendid,” Marya muttered as she scooped a bit of her ice cream.

“I told you so,” Hélène hummed happily and winked at her. “You shouldn’t doubt my tastes. I know what’s best.”

“Of course, you do. Now, your turn to try mine,” Marya interjected and held her spoon up to Hélène’s lips.

“I would protest but it’s only fair.” Hélène ate the spoonful and scrunched her nose in thought. The flavor was a mix of a vanilla tinged cream cheese with a hint of sourness from the streaks of strawberry jam that stretched along the treat. It definitely differed from a physical strawberry cheesecake for the flavors did not overwhelm one another but mixed equally into a delicious combination. She melted in her seat, closing her eyes as she savoured the flavor a little while longer. “This is delicious…”

“Isn’t it? It’s my favorite,” Marya commented proudly.

“Could we switch?” Hélène asked as she held up her cup, the rose still intact.

“Sure.”

Switching cups, they restarted to devouring them like they had done when they first sat down. They ate the treats clean until there was not a drop left to lick in their cups and they stacked the cups to be disposed. The ice cream was enough to make Hélène ecstatic that she flopped into her seat, wearing the biggest grin Marya had ever seen. A grin of pure delight and joy. Marya stood up to clear the cups, depositing it in the garbage bin in the corner of the parlor then returned to their table. She did not sit down but slung her bag over her shoulder, prepared to leave. It was late in the evening and she did not want either of them getting caught in any trouble in the dark.

Hélène realized quickly and rose to her feet, grabbing her bag from the ground. She shepherded Marya to the door and opened it for her, letting her walk out first before following after. It was not really the end of the day until they ended it with one last argument. They argued throughout the length of their walk over who was to escort the other home first. It was brought up when Marya raised the question over who was going home first. It was debated that it would be dangerous for either to walk on their own and that it was safe for at least one of them to return home with an escort. They argued ferociously, tearing at each other with arguments that could weaken the other. In the end, Marya won, as expected with the argument that Hélène had done her enough favors for the day.

Reaching the Kuragin’s house, Hélène departed with a light hug, a flurry of ‘thank yous’ and disappeared into the eerie darkness of her home. In Marya’s eyes, she glowed marvellously in the dark and she wondered how a girl like her could stand living in a house plunged in darkness. Her siblings alike. They were all rays of sunshine but their house was a dark cloud. When Hélène closed the door behind her, Marya took her leave, walking back home while holding the ruby protectively. She felt safe enough to walk slowly back to her apartment. The cold touch of the gold chain against her collarbone was a reminder that she was not exactly alone.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Dolokhov are a little confused.

The Kuragin house was dimly lit. Light seeped through the crack beneath the door to the living room and it was the only light source in the darkness for Hélène to navigate her way to the stairs. No one had bothered to turn the lights on in the hallway so she did it herself. Cautiously weaving her way through the furniture, she came to a stop in front of a table by the wall and flicked a light switch on. A lamp flickered to life and it lit the hallway with a sufficient amount of light. The light stretched from the entrance to the stairs, pouring over the shadows and light from the bottom of the door. She never understood why her father had placed the lamp far away from the entrance. This cursed dark hallway was the most troublesome part of the house for furniture laid scattered along the walls and the carpet had folds that tripped her every time she crossed the hallway. Stomping on a fold, she let out a huff when it split into two. Stepping over them, she jogged up the stairs, taking two steps at a time in a rush. She had no plans of attracting her father’s attention from the living room so she retreated to her room, closing the door with the click of a lock.

Tossing her bag aside, she nearly stumbled to the ground, letting out a surprised yelp when she saw Anatole sitting on her bed with Ippolit, a book in hand. Hearing the yelp, the boys turned to look at Hélène, wearing matching grins. Ippolit leapt off the bed and lunged at his older sister, hugging her tightly around the waist. Anatole did not budge, remaining in bed while fanning himself nonchalantly with the book. Hélène returned Ippolit’s hug, resting her head over his with a small smile. She nuzzled into his hair and though the curls, she shot a glare at Anatole.

“I don’t recall putting a welcome mat at my doorstep,” she muttered as she led Ippolit back to the bed. As they sat down, the bed groaned in protest but Hélène solved the problem by kicking Anatole off the bed.

Anatole sniggered and rolled off, onto the floor with a quiet ‘oof’. “Our rooms got boring and we wanted a bit of a tour in yours. The door wasn’t locked so we took that as a welcome.”

“Rude,” Hélène grumbled and tapped his back with the tip of her toe. “Ever heard of privacy?”

“Not since papa decided weekly inspections, nope,” Anatole answered as he laid on his back, grinning up at his siblings. “Your room is twice more boring than mine and Ippolit’s. All you have are posters, old letters and pictures, homework. Ew.”

“I’m sure you mean tidy,” Hélène muttered and positioned herself on her side, hand keeping her head up. “Anything else you decided to snoop about with?”

“Your laptop,” Anatole responded.

“My what?!” Hélène jolted up and flung herself at Anatole, hands grasping his shoulders, fingers digging into his shoulders. “My laptop is off limits, Tolya! Off. Limits!”

“Someone is jumpy.” He winced as her nails dug further into his shoulder. “I didn't look in depth. I saw a few things, that’s it. Your music playlist, wallpaper, opened documents and more homework.”

“Lying doesn’t suit you,” Hélène grimaced and shook his shoulders before climbing off him. “Do not do it again.”

“Can’t promise that… So, where did you go just now? Not like you to come back late without texting me,” Anatole said, changing the topic as he straightened his blouse.

Hélène rolled her eyes at him. “None of your business. Off to your rooms. Ippolit, be a good example for your stupid older brother.”

“Yes, Lena,” Ippolit hummed and hopped off of the bed, waddling over to the door. “Come on, Anatole. She’ll expel you if you don’t get moving.”

“Betrayer. Whose side are you on?” Anatole asked and stood up, rubbing the small of his back. “Who bought you donuts when you asked?”

“You, but with papa’s money,” Ippolit said then returned to his room obediently.

Anatole refused to move. Running a hand through his handsome perfumed head of hair, he went over to the door and kicked it close. He sat down on the floor, his leg over the other and he leaned against the door. His large grey eyes had an obnoxious glint and he raised a brow. He had obviously seen something more on the laptop. His lips parted but he did not speak yet. Pressing his lips together, he looked up at the ceiling then at a poster that hung above the foot of her bed. A P!nk poster of her album, Beautiful Trauma. The perfect description to summarize Hélène as a person. Chuckling into the back of his hand, Anatole looked at his sister and waggled a finger in her direction.

Hélène sat on her bedside, hands on her knees and her dark eyes fixed on Anatole. She could hear his brain buzzing in action and the look on his face was enough to anticipate what he was about to say. Picking up a pillow, she aimed and threw it at him but to her greatest disappointment, he caught it with ease.

“Got something in mind?” she asked, catching the pillow when he threw it back.

“Yeah. How was your date with Dmitrievna?” Anatole asked and rested his hands at the back of his head. “Did that speech of yours work?”

Hélène cursed under her breath. “I didn’t use the speech, you disrespectful snitch. I asked straight away. And also, it wasn’t a date. It was a treat.”

“Same thing. You and her, alone together. Then you pay for her food and either one escorts the other home. The ideal date! Tell me that happened,” Anatole sighed in tranquillity.

“Yeah, yeah, smartass. It did. Happy?” Hélène growled and flopped on her bed.

“Marya Dmitrievna Akhrosimova. The head prefect and the Terrible Dragon of school! How unexpected,” Anatole exclaimed and threw his hands in the air. “Is this another fling or is it legit?”

Hélène exhaled sharply and dangled off the side of her bed. “I don’t know, Tolya…”

“That’s new,” Anatole murmured. Scooting closer to his sister, he rested his cheek against hers and looked up at the ceiling. “Are you genuinely unsure or are you trying to avoid answering me?”

“Tolya, please…” Hélène mumbled and buried her face in her hands.

“Okay, okay. I won’t pry. At least tell me how the date went?” he asked and kissed her temple gently.

“Don’t tell papa?” she raised her pinky finger and side-eyed him expectantly.

He curled his own pinky finger around hers. “Promise. Not even Ippolit?”

“Nope.”

The promise was sealed and Hélène told Anatole everything about the date, starting from when she asked Marya. They spoke in hushed voices for they did not wish to attract any eavesdroppers, especially their father. Their father greatly disliked his children having flings or significant others. He was frighteningly religious. Any child of his having a relationship with anyone of the same gender was just as good as dead to him. Neither of the Kuragin siblings wanted that happening. For extra security, they sat on the bed and draped the blanket over their heads, muffling their voices.

Any person who knew Anatole would be stunned at how supportive he was as a brother. He may be a terrible friend but when it came to his sister, he did everything and anything for her. He offered the best advice he had for her, ironically, Hélène was clueless of the whole concept of dating someone with genuine feelings. Her past hook-ups were out of lust and desperation for attention, but this time, with Marya, she admitted that she felt something for her. That girl who busted her numerous times and treated her like a child. She listened to her brother and sulked to him about being childish. Anatole took the role of being the older sibling in the situation, babying Hélène who laid her head on his lap, her legs sticking out of the blanket. He pampered her, just like she had when they were children, and he felt good about himself. He could not show this sort of behavior in front of his friends for they called it ‘loser behavior’. It would be humiliating. At home, locked in a room, he was free to be who he wanted to be and he loved that_. Freedom_. 

The older two of the Kuragin siblings stayed like that until night fell. The sun set outside the window, disappearing beneath the windowsill and the border between day and night lowered with the sun. A dark blue canvas settled into the sky, black patches of clouds blotched in a messy scatter. The moon shone out of view and there were no stars in the sky. Hélène had fallen asleep when the sun was setting halfway. Her legs curled up against her chest and her arms clinged on to her brother’s torso. Anatole remained awake, undoing Hélène’s bun. He plucked bobby pins out of her hair then combed her hair out with his hand. He was careful with the knots, working his way through them with gentle hands. He had never seen his sister in a state of peace. Tears stung at the corner of his eyes but they did not fall. He knew that the peace was not going to last and he was helpless. The life they lived was dead, their happiness had gone and peace became war. Kuragins did not cry. Shutting his eyes, he tried to find peace in his slumber but a wave of darkness washed over him and that was it.

* * *

Natasha stared at the empty seat beside Sonya at recess. Her lunch burger was untouched, her French fries were soggy and her milk had gone warm, almost souring. Sonya shifted awkwardly in her seat. Her neighboring chairs were both vacant but the two had eyes specifically on the chair that sat in the middle. It was not because they did not care about Mary but they were aware of her reasons of her absence. Christian fellowship needed extra pairs of hands to prepare their next meeting and as a committee member, it was mandatory that Mary was there to help. Sonya had told them when they met up at the entrance of the cafeteria. Marya did not show up, and she left them no explanation. She had attended school that day as Pierre was with her in class not long before. When class ended, she had disappeared within seconds, leaving nothing but dust for Pierre in her tracks. Her plastic chair was probably cold after days of neglect. Their friend had been missing and they heard nothing from her. They only saw her during classes and her daily hallway patrols but during break, she vanished.

Anatole ate his burger silently but Dolokhov was texting Hélène frantically. Her seat laid vacant, like Marya’s, and they too had not seen her at recess for days. He got no response from her, but by the blue ticks at the corner of his text boxes, she had read the messages. Frustrated and defeated, he tossed his phone onto the table and tucked his hands under his armpits, huffing to himself. Anatole slid the phone over to himself and read the messages, snickering lightly at the desperation. He knew what was going on but he did not tell anyone. His promise with Hélène changed. He promised to keep all that she had told him about her feelings and that was what he was doing. Dolokhov had tried to ask him but being the marvellous liar he was, he denied answering. Natasha and Dolokhov were in the same state of perplexity and Anatole, in amusement.

Sonya was her usual self. Unperturbed about what was happening and happily indulging her chicken burger. Finishing the last bites of her burger, she reached over to Natasha’s tray for her fries and ate them. Pierre moved abruptly in the silent moment, checking his phone for messages and emails from his clubs and classes. He looked at Sonya then at his fries. He added his pile to Natasha’s and Sonya’s eyes lit up in joy. She ate the fries in pairs, dipping each in an even coating of ketchup then indulge. Done with the fries, she wiped the grease off her fingers then her lips with her white silk handkerchief.

“Natasha… Marya isn’t really gone. She’s just somewhere in school, so leave her be,” Sonya spoke up while chewing on fries.

“But it’s too quiet without her. A few days of recess without her made me realize how important she is for a fun conversation,” Natasha sulked and breathed a heavy sigh. “Where has she gone rendezvousing?”

“Funny you should ask… She’s made a new best friend,” Pierre mumbled, hinting that he had the answer.

“I thought you were her best friend, Pierre. You must be terribly sad that she replaced you,” Natasha said solemnly, rubbing his side gently. That child-like innocence made Pierre laugh but he brushed off her words.

“It’s not a bad thing, Natasha! When you have a new best friend, you’d obviously want to warm up to them, right?” Pierre rationalized with Natasha and the girl nodded.

“I totally get it but, who is this best friend?” Natasha asked.

“I thought you’d have figured it out by now. It’s Hélène,” Pierre said and Natasha gasped, her eyes lighting up in joy.

“They’re best friends?!” she squealed gleefully, hands balled up into fists.

“Here we go…” Sonya grumbled as she folded her handkerchief into smaller squares, sizeable for her breast pocket. “What’s so special about them?”

“I dunno,” was all Pierre answered.

“Enemies to friends, Sonya! The beauty of friendship. Doesn’t it remind you of yours and Marya’s friendship? How she used to despise you?” Natasha blabbered and Pierre threw his hand over her mouth.

“And the conversation is over,’ Pierre declared over Natasha’s muffled voice. “Eat your food, Natasha.”

“I’ll eat it if you don’t,” Sonya mused, ignoring whatever Natasha had said about her past feud with Marya.

“No, I want it!” Natasha yelled through the gaps of Pierre’s fingers. Prying his hand off her mouth, she gave it a light pat on the knuckles then dove in for her burger.

“Can we put Marya and Hélène aside? Natasha, you were never a gossiper,” Sonya said with an exasperated roll of her eyes.

“I’m telling you. Marya’s influenced her,” Pierre whispered to Sonya and shielded his head with his arms from Natasha’s flurry of slaps.

“I can hear you, rude!” Natasha exclaimed with a mouth full of burger.

“Talking with a food in your mouth is also very rude and ill-mannered. Chew it up,” Pierre taunted and closed the girl’s mouth by shutting her hanging jaw.

Sonya laughed lightly and stood up, brushing the crumpled ends of her skirt graciously. “Please excuse me, my friends. I’m going to find Mary. I can’t have her setting up the decorations by herself for Christian Fellowship.” 

“Is this a girlfriend’s call of distress?” Natasha teased and stood up to embrace her cousin, her shoulders shaking as she supressed her giggles.

“I’d hit you but you’re not incorrect,” Sonya admitted as she returned the embrace. “Have fun with the rest of break. I’ll see you in Literature.”

“Don’t go wasting your energy with those decorations. We’re doing Virginia Woolf today. You need the brain power,” Natasha added as she took a seat.

“Will do. Take care, the both of you.” Picking up her things, she left the cafeteria, humming a familiar tune that Natasha had heard her sing outside her door at home.

Pierre cleared his throat awkwardly and fumbled with his glasses. “So, what now?”

“We chat! As usual,” Natasha responded joyfully.

“Just you and I, huh?” Pierre tried to humor as he tucked his glasses into his breast pocket.

“And no one else,” Natasha beamed, smiling up at Pierre who in turn flushed furiously.

On the other side of the cafeteria, Anatole was busy entertaining a group of 13 year-old girls who claimed that they were close friends with Hélène as their golden ticket to earning Anatole’s friendship. Anatole did not believe them but decided to toy with them for the fun of it. It was typical of him to do such a thing but nobody had plans to stop him what he did best, and that was charming girls. The blonde boy flipped his hair in a grandeur sweep of his head then ran a hand through the tuff of hair that stuck up stylishly. It shone under the light, the golden glow of his platinum blonde hair drawing in the girls like moths to a lamp. He spoke highly of himself in front of the girls, praising his many achievements from his youth and the present. The more he yapped, the closer the girls scooted over to his sides until they were sandwiched against each other. It looked uncomfortable being so tightly packed up on a bench but with their attention on Anatole, the girls did not care how they piled on the limited seating.

Dolokhov received no share of the attention and he was grateful for that. The swarm of girls was a pain to handle. Hearing them ogle over his best friend, that stupid Kuragin, sickened his ears to the point they could bleed out and kill him. Planting his feet to the ground, he inched away from the table and held his phone up to his eyes. The blue ticks beside his text bubbles were frustrating him. He had sent over a 10 messages but Hélène had not answered any of them in the past hour. Peering over his phone to look at Anatole, his eyes darkened. A brother who did not care for his sister. A vile, shameless sight. He held the side of the table and brought himself nose-to-nose with Anatole.

“Anatole, could you ask these _lovely _girls where your sister is? Make them useful?” Dolokhov hissed through gritted teeth.

“They are useful. They listen to me when I talk and really… They listen to anything,” Anatole grinned and patted Dolokhov’s cheek.

“Try asking them. That is all I ask,” Dolokhov said and smacked his hand away.

“Okay, for you,” Anatole turned to the girls. “Girls, have you seen my sweet sister?”

A chatter rose as the girls huddled up in discussion. They threw aggressive questions and stammering answers, and Dolokhov was not amused. As for Anatole, bit his lips together and puffed up his cheeks as he laughed quietly. He was not laughing at the girls but at Dolokhov. He ruffled Dolokhov’s nest of black hair and drew him close with an arm. The girls then came to the end of their discussion, concluding with the admittance that they did not know Hélène was. Anatole pretended to look disappointed and dismissed the girls with a simple turn of his head. Dolokhov took the hint and chased the girls away himself with a grin. The girls scrammed and the boys laughed.

“Why do you still entertain them? Do you see how pathetic they are?” Dolokhov quipped as he wrapped an arm around Anatole’s neck, lowering his head to his underarm to rub it with his knuckles.

“Their pettiness is hilarious! And, the hair, Dolokhov! Why?” Anatole whined and made grabby hands at Dolokov’s wrist.

“This is for boring me to death and for ruining my morning with this garbage,” Dolokhov answered and pinched his cheek.

“I apologize for not including you in the fun but you ended it,” Anatole argued and tried to wiggle his way out of his grip.

“I’m having my fun now.” Getting up, he dragged Anatole out of the cafeteria with him, his head still locked under his arm. “Where to now, pretty boy?”

“The gym room? Balaga’s got a stash,” Anatole hummed and writhed in Dolokhov’s arm.

Dolokhov nodded. “To the gym room it is~”

* * *

Where were Hélène and Marya all this while? Perched on the bleachers at the field, the girls laid on the steps. Marya laid on a step lower than Hélène and they gazed at the sky as the cloud floated by in the baby blue canvas. The clouds grew larger in size as the wind changed, large fluffs of white cotton blotching the sky in random patterns that mesmerized Marya. Neither of the girls spoke for they had spoken enough for an hour. This was a short break and a peaceful moment to appreciate nature at its finest. It had been Hélène’s idea to gaze at the sky for she found the football field too dull. Marya admitted that it was a lovely idea and now they did it every time they met at the fields for their daily meet-ups.

Hélène’s arm dangled off the side of the step she laid on and she wriggled her fingers at Marya for her hand. Marya had been watched the arm instead of the clouds and at the wriggle, she held her hand gently. Hélène played with Marya’s hand daintily, running her fingertips along her knuckles and over her palm. They stayed like that until the bell rang but they did not budge. Marya looked up at Hélène but she could not see her face for it was shadowed by the sun. She could see the rise and fall of her chest, and the calmness in her posture. Sitting up, she saw Hélène tracing the clouds with her index finger, smiling at what she had drawn in her imagination.

“Enjoying yourself up there?” Marya asked as she turned her head to the sky, at the clouds that she was tracing.

“A little bit…” Hélène sat up and turned to Marya. “I don’t wanna go back to class. Not now.”

“You never do.” Marya stood up and stretched herself out. “Want me to walk you to class?”

“No need. You’ll be late,” Hélène murmured and got up.

She descended the steps of the bleachers with Marya and they walked back into the school building. Hélène clutched her sweater, right above her heart, as she skipped along the way. Marya’s eyes wandered, uncertain of where to look. She did not want to be caught staring at Hélène’s giddy skipping so she looked towards the ground. The grass crunched beneath her feet, the dews of water on the blades of green seeping into her sandals. She only looked up when Hélène came to a stop and spoke loudly.

“Have you been listening to me?” Hélène had asked when they stopped.

“I-I’m sorry. I was distracted,” Marya stammered and clutched her own cardigan, over her rapidly beating heart. “What were you saying?”

“I wanted to know if you liked gazing at the sky,” Hélène said, exaggerating the pronunciation of her words.

“I do! I enjoy it thoroughly,” Marya responded hastily.

“Good. We can do it again!”

“When?” Marya blabbered like a fool.

“Next time. We’ll do some more gazing,” Hélène trilled.

“I look forward to it,” Marya jabbered and nudged Hélène’s arm with her knuckles.

They laughed together and walked down the hallway, towards their classes. The walk down the hallway seemed like forever. Perhaps it was because of the small steps they were taking. Inches to centimetres to indiscernible shuffling along the smooth floor. Hélène clung on to Marya’s arm as she walked, a typical thing she did with friends and Marya was comfortable with it. She ignored the piercing eyes of the students who passed by. Let them gossip about the sight before them. Marya was not afraid of the rumors about her. She had better material sources that could make those rumors about her disappear like they never existed. It was easy work. Feeling a poke, she looked down at Hélène.

“Could you tell Dolokhov to shut up? My phone’s been going off,” Hélène complained as she scowled at the device in her hand.

“Gladly. I’ll do it later,” Marya said and whipped out her phone. “I got some messages from Natasha…”

“Did you inform them of our rendezvousing, because I did not tell Dolokhov anything,” Hélène confessed as she answered the messages at last.

“Nope, but that’s okay. They’ll understand.”

And they sure did, Natasha especially.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night is young and the stars come out to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, gang. 
> 
> This may not be the best chapter but I can assure you there is A LOT of fluff. Like, a LOT. 
> 
> Please forgive me if there are any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes. I'll be sure to correct them.  
Now, enjoy :)

**Friday [8:30 p.m.]**

**Hélène**: Mon cherie? You there? 

**Marya**: Yes?

**Hélène**: Are you free?

**Marya**: Now?

**Hélène**: Yeah. Like right now. 

**Marya**: Nope. Doing homework. Why? 

**Hélène**: Bummer. Who does homework on a Friday night? 

**Marya**: Me and the other seniors. We've got plenty to do for our finals. Homework is basically our revision. 

**Hélène**: But on a Friday night. That sucks. I'll leave you to it. 

**Marya**: Thank you, have a good night. 

**Hélène**: Yea

* * *

The night was clear and tranquil. The traffic on the streets had diffused in the early hours of the Friday evening, leaving a blissful night for those who lived nearby. The night activities of a Friday night burst into life as bars and pubs opened for their usual late night runs. Groups of people, students and adults alike, mingled by the streets but did not cause any sort of chaos. They gatherings were civil, much to the relief of the residents that stayed in the apartments that lined the streets. It was a popular neighborhood for that very reason. 

In the bustling events of the night, Marya sat at her desk under the light of a single lamp that illuminated the entire wooden surface. Books laid open on their spines, scattered across the desk as Marya attended to one of them. Her hand was cramped from hours of scratching pen and paper, and redoing essays that she was not satisfied with. The combination of subjects that she had taken, social studies, history, economics, English literature, biology and math, was the death of her. Most of them were essay-intensive and with a fussy attitude like hers, she did not go easy on herself. At the start of the year, she had weighed impeccable standards and expectations on herself, and now she lived by them. Nothing stood in the way of the Dragon. When there was an obstacle, she would burn it down into dust and ashes, almost literally. She did burn a few unsatisfactory essays in 9th grade, as a terribly angry teenager, but that phase ended when she almost burned down her apartment. 

Reverting back to her old burning ways was tempting for the economics essay that she was working on was giving her a pulsing migraine. It came and went like an irritating fly buzzing near then away. If only she could swat the migraine away. To correct herself, if only life was so simple. She clicked the butt of her pen spasmodically against her forehead as she processed her thoughts. She tried forming sentences, tossing in random definitions and structuring them in the most professional way possible. None of them fitted the contents of the essay, or so she thought. Crumpling the the paper, she threw it into the waste basket and took a short breather. Her hand ran faster than her mind in essay writing and she hated how slow she was at evaluating herself.

It was a waste of a night. The weather was perfect for a late night stroll to the park, and a drink would be lovely. The moon taunted her from the window that overlooked the beautiful glowing city. It was a new moon. It tilted in a weird angle, forming the smile of a Cheshire cat that dripped in mockery at Marya's lack of freedom. The stars hid behind the shadows of the city lights, cowering beneath a layer of black that colored the sky.

Marya's homework shackled her at home, an invisible chain connecting the redhead to her desk. Her freedom was just around the corner. The more homework she did, the closer she was getting to it. It was progress, she persuaded herself, but it was an effort that required an extra pair of hands. She needed help and help was what she was going to get. Swearing under her breath, she dialed Pierre's number and rested her head on the desk, next to her phone. She waited. A ring after another. The call got through and Pierre's voice rang out through the speaker. 

"Hello, Marya. It's economics, yes?" Pierre asked in a default voice, exhausted and dull. 

"The essay on floating exchange rates. The advantages and disadvantages are confusing me," Marya sighed into the phone. 

"They really are confusing. The terms and the examples on the websites I found are useless. I could send you my essay as a reference," Pierre offered, speaking over the scratching of his pencil. 

"Do you have notes on this? I don't want to copy anything out of your hard work," Marya said with a frown as she sat up. 

"As long as you learn from copying, it's okay," Pierre assured her. 

"Thank you, Pierre, again," Marya muttered and laughed to herself. 

"You're most welcome. Anything else?" Pierre asked, and the pencil clattered onto the ground. "Hold on a second." Marya heard a chair screech as it moved and a grunt from Pierre. 

"Not going anywhere-"

A hand clasped over her mouth and she nearly shrieked in fright. She grasped the hand over her mouth but it tightened around her jaw, clamping over her nose. She thrashed in her seat in a struggle to escape the clutches of the intruder but an arm wrapped around her in a gentle embrace. She caught the whiff of a familiar scent of roses and mint, and her shoulder slackened. This was no threat. Spinning around her seat, the arms moved away to trap her in her seat on either side of the chair. She parted her lips to scold the intruder but they reacted quick, placing their finger to her red lips. She did not move but her tongue threatened to snap. She did not hear Pierre's frantic calling for her, asking whether she was still there. 

"Hélène Kuragin!" Marya hissed, eyes narrowing into a scowl.

"Shhh-" Hélène looked at the phone then at Marya with a smile.

"Marya? Have you gone? Hello?" Pierre called out louder and Marya turned to the phone. 

"I'm here, Pierre. I'll call you back. I think I've got it," Marya lied, and Hélène seemed rather impressed with how naturally it came out. 

"Oh- Good for you. Feel free to call me if you struggle with anything else," Pierre hummed. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight..."

He hung up and she turned her attention to the younger girl in her room. She rose to her feet and dusted her shoulders, scrutinizing the girl from head to toe. Hélène struck a pose and giggled under Marya's gaze, and Marya could not resist laughing at the mannerism. She liked the outfit she donned. An emerald green sweatshirt, black sweatpants and plain beige sandals. Her hair was done up in two neat buns but a few strands of curls poked out in the front, laying on her forehead. She blew the stand out of her eye and swung her head to the side in a lazy attempt to brush it aside. Marya tutted at the laziness and raised a hand up to tuck the curls behind Hélène's ears, and she looked at him with the gaze of an innocent child. It was then Marya noticed the basket hanging on her forearm covered in a metallic green cloth. 

"You must be wondering why I'm here," Hélène spoke up and swayed. 

"That and how you got in here," Marya added and crossed her arms. "Did you pick the lock?"

"With a hairpin. It's a very useful skill. You should try it," Hélène said as she waved the hairpin in Marya's view.

"I don't think breaking in will become of any use in my life," Marya muttered and plucked the hairpin out of her hand to pocket it. "And how did you find my house?"

"Breaking out might be," Hélène mumbled and grinned. "Pierre was my source. Blame him for ratting you out."

"I'm not accusing anyone here... Did you break out of your own home?" Marya questioned, scrunching up her nose. "This is unacceptable behavior."

"I know, but forget it. Forget your homework, forget my mistakes, forget school. I want you to follow me," Hélène said and held a hand out to her. 

"Where are we going this late? I pray we're not going to drink," Marya grumbled, taking Hélène's hand anyway. 

"You'll see when we get there. It isn't far," Hélène responded. 

"I hate surprises..." Marya sulked and squeezed her hand in uncertainty. 

Hélène did not catch the last thing Marya had grumbled for she had already turned to skip to the door. They made their way to the front door and Marya struggled to keep her pace with Hélène's bounces as she skipped. Marya grabbed her housekeys and her purse with a swipe of her hand, just in case, and locked up the place when they stepped outside. After a swift security check of her door, she followed beside Hélène who had already trotted half-way down the hallway. She did not understand her rush but she sped up into a jog to join her side. 

Marya had no reason to mistrust Hélène for she had learned to warm up to her since the blossoming of their friendship. However, she had to be wary of what she was up to knowing her unfavorable habits and attraction towards anything alcoholic. They were things that Marya frowned upon about Hélène but it was up to her if she wanted to change herself. She was just a friend of hers, nothing more. She emptied her mind of her rapidly running thoughts for she preferred to save herself of any bizarre expectations. The unexpected turn up was odd enough but what was to happen could not possibly be any odder. She had no bad intentions, that was clear. The skipping, the humming of showtune and the constant smiling were too harmless for an evil intent. Or maybe it was a childish cover. This was Marya's mind running wildly and being too overly defensive of a change to her daily routine. She hated this about herself, and Pierre did too. She had tried to drop this habit but to no avail, it did not work. 

With a sharp mind, Marya evaluated everything in her view. The dangerously darkened sidewalk, the park nearing her view and the absence of nightowls. It was eerily serene. No names of places crossed her mind as she tried to guess where Hélène was taking her. Not pubs, not clubs. She concluded that they were not going anywhere illegally and that relieved her. They were heading to the park. The grass crunched beneath her heel and it brought her back to the recent memory of sky gazing on the bleachers. Sucking in a breath of the warm night air, she smiled at the whiff of freshly cut grass and the pure greens of nature. The soil was wet from the light drizzle, leaving the pleasant after-smell of watered dirt in the air. She came to a stop in her tracks when Hélène did on top of a hill and she observed her as the girl bustled around. She laid a mat on the ground, smoothing the checkered material out on the grass, then placed the basket on a corner to prevent it from flapping. Done with her hardwork, she laid down on her back. Marya did not move until Hélène patted the empty spot beside her. She went to her side and laid down, occupying the cold vacancy of the mat, adjusting herself in a comfortable position. The lumps of the dirt stabbed her back painfully but she stubbornly refused to show discomfort or complain about it. 

"What are we doing?" Marya spoke up and looked at Hélène who was gazing at the sky. 

"I've told you before during our last recess," Hélène hummed in response.

"And that is?" Marya repeated. 

Hélène sighed and poked Marya's cheek. "Look up..."

At that response, Marya asked no further. She knew she was not going to receive a direct one so she looked up at the sky. Her jaw dropped open and her eyes widened, stunned by what she was met with. A cluster of stars sprinkled on all sides of the sky, glistening in the distant like precious gemstones. They shone brighter than the city lights as though they were a hidden city in the sky. They danced before her vision and reflected the grey glow in her eyes. She could spot more than a dozen constellations in a second, leaping up everytime she spotted one. The blinding lights of the city had covered the slate of stars and it angered her that such beauty was concealed. If she had known that this was above her head all her life, Marya would have rather spent her years staring at the sky than the screen on a television. 

As Marya admired the stars, Hélène admired the moonshine on Marya's skin. The way it made her pale skin and grey eyes sparkle stunned her, and she never did realize how gorgeous the Dragon was when she was not in a rage. Her pale skin made her red lips flash vibrantly, contrasting against the white flesh. For the first time, she could see Marya in all of her beauty. Despite wearing a maroon tank top and black sleeping shorts, she looked like a goddess under the moon and stars. What a sight to behold. Casually, she scooted closer to Marya and curled her body against hers, her head resting on her shoulder near the crook of her neck. Marya did not protest but slid an arm around her waist, grasping the hem of her sweatshirt. 

"How's this for a surprise?" Hélène taunted and grinned. 

"I can't find the words to describe how incredible this is," Marya murmured, not tearing her eyes away from the sky. 

"For a top scorer in English Literature, that's disappointing," Hélène joked and turned to look at the sky. "Would breathtaking be the right word?"

"Yeah... That," Marya nodded and smiled.

"Suits you quite literally. You can't even speak," Hélène stated and twirled a lock of her red hair with her finger. 

"Leave a girl to stargaze, Hélène," Marya grumbled and placed a hand over Hélène's mouth. "A minute."

"Gotcha."

Hélène closed her eyes and relaxed against Marya, who in turn, held her close, fitting the smaller girl against her side. She fitted like a puzzle piece, perfect and precise, so they stayed like that underneath the starry sky. Marya tilted her head slightly to rest it against the top of Hélène's as she stargazed, taking in every inch of the sky that she could see. A minute was sufficient to absorb the view into her memory. It was a shame that she did not have her phone with her but now that she knew where to stargaze, she had plans to come back very soon. Her attention moved to fix on Hélène and she shook her gently from her brief shut-eye. 

"Done with your minute already?" Hélène mumbled and her eyes fluttered open. 

"I could go back to it," Marya said but Hélène tugged at the sleeve of her tank top. "I take that as a no."

"Attention on me, now," Hélène demanded and hooked an arm around Marya's waist. 

"It is on you, ma'am. A hundred percent," Marya told her and chuckled softly.

"Good... Keep it that way," Hélène insisted as she braided the lock of hair she was playing with. As she did the braid, she glanced towards the sky several times, smiling to herself. "I've never actually told anyone about this spot. Not even Anatole. I thought it would be nice to share this special spot with you."

"I feel honored. Thank you for bringing me here," Marya said but furrowed her brows at the thought of her homework. "I was doing economics back at home, and it was driving me insane."

"Consider this your escape. It's what I do," Hélène confessed and undid the braid to weave it into another style. 

"It's dangerous to come out here by yourself. You could put yourself at risk," Marya warned sternly. 

"I don't have to fuss about that. I have you," Hélène interjected and Marya shut her mouth to stop any arguments. "We could stargaze whenever you want to escape. Send a text and we'll meet here."

"Your father won't mind?" Marya mumbled and looked down at Hélène. She was well-informed of Vassily Kuragin. That mean old man. She had never met him but heard of the rumors that went around of how the man drank himself into insanity ever since his wife, Aline, passed away. 

"As long as he doesn't know," Hélène answered and looked up at Marya with an assuring smile.

"Why is it that you always dangle your life on the edge of a cliff?" Marya groaned.

"Because, what's life without a little danger?" Hélène teased and inched closer. 

"If you ever have children, never teach them this, please. For their sake," Marya tsked and shook her head in disapproval. 

"I thank you for your concern for me and my future children. It's very touching," Hélène remarked cheerily. 

Marya turned her head to face Hélène but paused. She had not noticed how close they were. They noses touched and Hélène almost blinked but her eyes bore into Marya's. They were so close to the point they could not see the features of the other past the bridge of their noses. Neither blinked as they moved closer, afraid that if they blinked, they would miss an important second. They froze a hot centimetre away from each other's lips, exchanging heated breaths that brushed against cold skin. Their lips did not meet. Marya squeezed Hélène's side and Hélène's own hand clenched her tank top in a tight fist. Closing her eyes, Marya bit down on her bottom lip. 

"I think we should head back," she whispered. 

"Absolutely," Hélène agreed. 

Feeling Hélène's breath against her lips for the final time, she moved away to sit up, helping the other up as well. Marya could hear her heart ramming against her ribcage as she assisted Hélène with the mat, folding it up into tidy squares before chucking it into the basket. The heart palpitations did not subside but increased in volume as Hélène reached out to take her hand to lead them out of the darkness of the park and back to Marya's apartment. She bade Marya goodnight and planted a lingering kiss on her cheek, needing to tiptoe to reach it but the effort was worth it. Marya did not return a kiss of her own but a short goodbye and goodnight. As usual, she waited until Hélène disappeared from her sight before she went on with her own things. Entering her apartment, she crumbled to the floor and a crimson blush rose to her cheeks in a bolt. She could feel the ghost of Hélène's breath against her lips, the lingering warmth. If she could have a thousand nights like this, she would beg for more. The Gods above were teasing her with the fickleness of fate but let them tease on. 

The events of the night replayed in her mind and she would catch herself rubbing her fingertips against her lips. Perhaps an escape plan from life was the best alternative than facing her problems in a sitting. She pushed herself too hard and got nothing in return for her labor. An escape out of the incalculable hours she spent fussing over homework was more rewarding. Good things were worth the wait but she could not wait any longer. In her mind, she was already planning her the next round. It was simply the matter of when. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Changes occur and once again, Marya is a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, gang! Back with another update. I'm sorry it took forever. College has not been kind to me but I found the time! Yay!

"Hélène?"

Anatole received no reply from his sister who was seated across at their lunch table. Dolokhov sat on his right, chewing on the paper straw of his finished glass of iced coffee. He had given up on his attempts to capture Hélène's attention and decided to focus his teeth on his disfigured straw. He gnawed and chewed on it, his bored eyes fixated on the blonde Kuragin who was making funny gestures with his hands in front of Hélène. Her eyes were elsewhere, casted on another table across the room. Neither of them knew who or what it was that she was staring at but it certainly had her full attention. Dolokhov did not bother stopping Anatole from embarrassing himself in the canteen with his repetitive calls for his sister and his long whining. It amused him in his haze of boredom so he allowed him to proceed with it. To no avail, Hélène was still distracted with a faraway smile.

It was no question to Dolokhov about that smile. He knew what it connoted but he did not wish to pry into the other's business. Anatole rose to his feet and moved into Hélène's line of vision to obscure whatever it was she was looking at but she only tipped her head to adjut her view.

"Hélène? Have you gone deaf?" Anatole snapped his fingers. "Hélène? Elena? Yelena Vasilyevna Kuragina!"

And finally, Hélène turned to look at Anatole to smack the back of his head. "Don't call me that! It's either Hélène or Lena. Not that Elena nonsense."

"I still don't understand why you hate your name," Anatole murmured

"I just do. It's stupid. What do you want?" she snapped and scowled at him.

"You're not here. You are here physically but then you're not here. You get me?" Anatole asked and rubbed his hands together.

"It's none of your business, Tolya. Now, leave me alone," Hélène scoffed as she turned to look in the same direction she had been staring at.

"Lena, you haven't been sitting with us for weeks and suddenly you pop out of nowhere but you're not talking to us. Did you lose interest in us or was it something we did?" Anatole asked as he tried to see what it was that Hélène was looking at. His eyes widened upon landing on a particular redhead and his lips curled into a smirk. "I see… Gosh, sister, you can't seem to get your eyes off of Dmitrievna."

Dolokhov bit off the top of his straw, the paper ripping loudly. "You've got to be kidding me! You and her?!"

"Shut up! We're not a thing!" Hélène cried out and wrapped her arms around their necks in a mock strangle.

"That's why you've been disappearing. You're always off rendezvouing with her, yes?" Anatole asked with a laugh. "After one date together and you're already head over heels for her.”

"Since when did you care about who I like?" Hélène snorted as she released their necks.

"It's Marya!" Dolokhov pointed out. "It was only a few weeks ago when the both of you wanted so desperately to tear each other's throats. What's changed?"

"Nothing, nothing. Nothing that concerns you anyway," Hélène responded and waved a dismissal hand at them.

"Lena, it's only fair that you tell Fedya. I know the truth already," Anatole said boldly.

"And if you don't tell me, I'll ask Anatole," Dolokhov interjected.

"Why do you care so much?" Hélène grumbled, spinning around in her seat to look at them properly. "Are you jealous that I'm not giving you any more attention?"

Dolokhov let out a sharp laugh. "No. We just ah-"

"Spit it out," Hélène barked.

"You're happy! And that makes us happy too," Anatole continued and wrapped an arm around Dolokhov

"Okay. . ." Hélène stood up and grabbed her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. "I'm always happy, I don't see why this is anything special."

“We know that but someone else is making you happy,” Anatole said. “Someone that isn’t either of us.”

Hélène scoffed. “Pierre said the exact same thing. Strange…”

“Really? And you don’t notice it yourself? You need three people to tell you that”? Dolokhov laughed and slapped his knee. “What has happened to our dear Hélène?”

“I have zero fucks left to give, that’s what happened,” Hélène answered, too brutally honest for the boys to handle for they grimaced at her words. “I have to go.”

“Where?” Anatole spluttered.

“Christian Fellowship meeting. I promised Mary I’d help her,” Hélène responded as she hugged her books to her chest.

Dolokhov’s laughter doubled and soon he was wheezing. “Christian Fellowship with the little Church Mouse? Did you fall and knock your head on the pavement or something?”

Hélène swatted his head with a thin notebook and turned on her heel. “Did not. I was bored so I decided to volunteer.”

“Have fun. We’ll be at the gym,” Anatole hummed as he busied himself with his hair.

A laugh rippled through Dolokhov again but before he could throw some stupid remark, Hélène was gone. She had crossed the canteen to Marya’s table and Dolokhov watched as they interacted. He observed how Marya’s expression shifted from dour eyes to a friendly gaze which was utterly alien to Dolokhov. He had expected a less warming welcome for Hélène but the group of friends that had gathered at the table, Natasha, Pierre and Sonya, were just as endearing as Marya was. Natasha had greeted her with a hug, and Pierre and Sonya wore matching wide smiles. They spoke for a bit and laughed when Hélène made a joke which Dolokhov assumed was about Anatole and himself for the group turned their heads to steal a glance at them. The glances that they stole were not cunning. It was barely an attempt. They laughed together as they whispered among themselves, the group bursting into laughter again, and Dolokhov felt irritated. He thanked the lord repeatedly when they all rose from their seats to leave the cafeteria, his eyes following them as they scurried off. He did not miss the way Hélène wrapped herself around Marya’s arm as they skipped out of the room and the lack of space between them bothered him.

Anatole sipped on his milk loudly, a smirk on his lips as he watched his older sister trot off happily. The smirk then softened into a fond smile and it stretched across his cheeks. He had never seen her happier in school. If it was not obvious, Hélène had changed drastically. She had ditched her explicit clothing for more appropriate and comfortable outfits and she was trying to be genuinely kind to others. Trying, because it was only a day ago when she bombarded someone with a flurry of profanities for accidentally stepping on her boot. Anatole wanted to ask her why she was changing. What was the purpose of changing oneself if one were already tainted with a bad reputation? But he did not need to ask her. The answer was there. It was not the matter of what but who. Who she did it for, and the answer was the Marya. It still stunned Anatole how someone who was once his sister’s worst enemy became someone who touched her life. Maybe the Kuragins did not understand what love could really do for they were so used to a month’s fling with some random schoolmate. The thoughts were a lot for a sitting.

Anatole did not delve too deep into his thoughts, letting them dissolve into nothing as he returned to his normal state. Carefree and blithe. He looked towards Dolokhov who was looking at him with a small smile and he returned it with his signature grin. Dolokhov held a hand to Anatole and he placed his empty carton of milk on his hand. He received a scowl for his irresponsibly discarded garbage but Dolokhov threw it into the bin without a complaint. When he returned, he sank in his seat and folded his arms over his chest, hands tucked underneath his arms.

“I was expecting your hand, durak,” Dolokhov grumbled.

“You didn’t say anything. How was I suppose to know? It’s not like I have telepathy,” Anatole said with a shrug.”

“Nobody in their right mind would be asking for garbage with a smile,” Dolokhov groaned and smacked his forehead. “Forget it. You’re stubborn and dumb, and I can’t fix that.”

“But you still love me, no?” Anatole challenged and nudged his cheek with his knuckles.

“You should be lucky,” Dolokhov muttered dismissively as he flicked his nose.

* * *

Marya could not decipher what was happening. She sat on the floor with Sonya and Natasha who were busying themselves with some color paper and scissors, but she was not so occupied herself. The members of the Christian Fellowship club bustled about in preparation for their latest event. It was a hurricane of streamers, banners and hand-crafted decorations. The little classroom they had chosen to use was clear of the desks and tables, leaving an open space for the students to walk about freely. Marya was familiar with the majority of the members, everyone was a familiar face. All but one. Through the crowd of faces that crossed the room, she watched Hélène as she assisted Mary with the paper stars. The Kuragin balanced on a chair recklessly, her nose scrunched in focus as she angled the star perfectly. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun with stubborn stray strands sticking out of the hairdo. If Helene were still the spoilt brat that she was a few weeks ago, she would be whining about how awful she looked. To top that, she would not even be in the room wasting her time with Christian Fellowship. She never used to waste her time on extracurricular clubs, yet alone Christian Fellowship which she avoided entirely before. Now, she worked diligently. She moved to different posts when she was idle, sweating herself until she finished up her jobs. She had helped in the completion of hanging up the banners, pasting the handicrafts on the walls and designing the décor, single-handedly with barely any extra hands.

Marya fumbled with the pair of scissors in her hands, too distracted to function productive. Sonya and Natasha did not wish to disturb her friend so they did most of the work, including Marya’s load to prevent inefficiency. Hélène came skipping over to them with four bottles of water tightly clutched in her arms. She dropped to the floor with a groan and distributed the bottles to among the three girls, keeping the remaining bottle for herself. Sonya and Natasha thanked her for the bottles, and took a few minutes’ water break. Marya accepted the bottle but did not drink it from it. Her eyes wandered to Hélène who was dripping in sweat but she was mad enough to keep her sweater on which was drenched. Her sweat had turned the emerald green sweater into a dark shade of pine green and the sight of it revolted Marya. She slid a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped the sweat off Hélène’s brow who happily welcomed to the help. Marya muttered a string of curses to herself and shot the girl a scowl when she smirked at her. No matter how deep her scowl became, the smirk did not fade but it seemed as though it had carved into cheeks permanently.

“I won’t hesistate to hit you with this handkerchief if you keep smirking like that,” Marya threatened plainly.

“My, how kind…” Hélène responded as she plucked the handkerchief out of her hand. “Then I’ll clean up by myself.”

“Becoming independent already? Shall I applaud for your achievement?” Marya asked with a joking air.

“I’d be flattered. Go on,” Hélène hummed as she laid down on her back, her head pillowed by Marya’s lap.

Marya grimaced and made a sound. “Now you’re soaking my pants in your sweat and it is absolutely disgusting. You have my handkerchief for that very reason, excuse you.”

“Sorry, I don’t have the strength to get up. Wait a little longer, mon chere. I’ll recover my energy then I’ll get up,” Hélène said with a cheeky grin.

“I’m trying to do some work here,” Marya protested.

“Really? Last I glanced at you, you were staring at me with your scissors swaying in the air,” Hélène murmured and patted her cheek. “Sonya and Natasha were doing your work, and they still are. Where has your sense of duty gone?”

“Nowhere. They have gone nowhere,” Marya muttered and crossed her arms.

“Someone’s sulking. Girls, thank you for your aid. I think Marya needs some rest. Her studies and prefect work must have exhausted her,” Hélène said as she stood up, pulling Marya up with her.

“I-

“Go ahead! You should bring her home for some rest. We can handle it,” Natasha answered as she waved her scissors in the air.

“But, Natasha…” Marya mumbled hopelessly.

“To home we go! Au revoir,” Hélène chirped as she dragged Marya out of the doors.

Hélène left Marya at the door to bid Mary goodbye for she thought that it would be rude of her to leave without informing her. With that done, Hélène retrieved their schoolbags and led Marya out of the school building. When Marya asked to have her schoolbag, Hélène repudiated, insisting that she carried it for her throughout the walk to her apartment. Marya did not protest but she found the tender act rather weird. It was not like Hélène to pick up the responsibilities of others for the girl was so often self-absorbed with her own issues. Emptyhanded, she allowed her hands to sway by her sides frivolously. She casted her grey eyes to the floor, observing how her boots marked the path she walked. The air fell silent on them as neither knew what to say to stir up a conversation, and they let it remain. Chancing a glance at Hélène for something to click a topic for conversation, she saw none, but she noticed that she was daydreaming. She flitted fluidly with an absent mind, balancing perfectly despite the weight of two schoolbags on her shoulders. Her eyes were on the darkening sky, brown hues reflecting the streetlamps that shone down on her. Was she always this gorgeous? She might not have noticed then when she despised her so much. Maybe her judgements had clouded her vision to see past that ugly façade she wore. A wall that thickened another wall.

Hélène had changed significantly in terms of mannerism and behavior. She was more sensitive towards others and she had grown altruistic. Witnessing how she had offered help to everyone at Christian Fellowship awed Marya and she marveled at how easy it was for Hélène to morph into a different person. She was not as snotty or arrogant nor was she coquettish anymore. She even had the decency to dress up properly for school, having abandoned the miniscule pieces of cloth she dared to call clothes. She had become so obedient and polite, it was as though she were a complete stranger, but it was a salubrious transformation. Out of the many schoolmates she had scolded during her duties, Hélène was the only one of the lot who decided to put in the effort to improve herself. Of all people, Marya never expected a Kuragin, more specifically Hélène, to act on her warnings.

Lost in her mind, she did not realize that they had arrived and that she walked past the gates by accident. Hélène grasped Marya’s hand to stop her from going any further, and she burst into a fit of giggles when the redhead regained her consciousness. Clicking her tongue, Hélène maneuvered herself behind Marya and slipped her bag on her shoulders. Her hands adjusted the straps and smoothed the creases that formed on her shirt as the straps of the bag wrinkled the material due to its weight. Whenever Hélène’s fingertips brushed over her skin, she could feel electric pulses travelling down her nerves and it made her fingers tremble. She balled her hands into fists to hide the awkward tremors, forcing a smile when Hélène materialized in front of her with a smile of her own.

“And this is where I shall depart,” Hélène announced and patted Marya’s cheek.

“It is,” Marya babbled and rubbed her cheek unconsciously.

“I will see you tomorrow, mon chere. Skygazing at our usual place?” Hélène asked as she retrieved her phone to note down her schedule.

“Yeah. Same time, same place,” Marya mumbled as she stared at her feet.

“Can’t wait. Have a lovely rest. Do not stay up late just because of your homework or revision. Your health is more important,” Hélène warned her then pressed a chaste kiss on the cheek.

She turned on her heel to leave but Marya spoke up. “Wait!”

Hélène spun around and tilted her head. “Hm?”

“Why… I don’t know any better way to ask this but. . . Why did you change?” Marya asked as she clasped her hands behind her back to claw at her knuckles.

“What do you mean?” Hélène asked obliviously.

“You’re kinder now. Not that you were severely immoral but, you’ve evolved into this new person,” Marya explained. “You’ve become caring, and dare I say, endearing. It astonishes me how far you’ve gone.”

“I see where you’re going… I just ah-“ She hesitated but covered it with a laugh. “I didn’t want to burden you anymore with my selfish behavior. You have a plenty in your hands and I don’t want to be a part of that pile.”

“But you already are a part of the pile. In a good way!” Marya corrected herself.

Hélène’s musical laughter sounded. “How so?”

Marya had just cornered herself. She was a terrible liar, Hélène made that evident and she had no way out of the question. “I suppose I should get this off of my chest once and for all…”

“Ooh, I’ve always liked something dramatic,” Hélène interrupted and clapped her hands in child-like glee.

“Don’t ruin it for me, please…”

Marya could feel her lungs depleting of oxygen and she forgot how to breathe. Her breaths became ragged and her chest rose and fell aggressively. Her heart palpitated and her palms were sweating profusely. How was it that Hélène could drive her senses insane? Marya was never shaken by anyone. Her mouth went dry and she lost the ability to speak like how she had forgotten how to breathe. Forcing in a breath of air through her nose, she wiped her hands on her blazer and licked her lips to moisturize the dry surface to lessen the pain when she spoke.

“I fancy you, Kuragin. And you have no idea how stressful it is to be normal around you,” Marya blurted out quickly then withdrew herself away from Hélène who was staring at her with wide eyes. “Ever since you waltzed through those doors with your shorts and fancy clothing. I raise my voice at you to hide those feelings but they never worked. So, here we are.”

“You’re not bluffing, right? Of course, you aren’t! You’re Marya…” Hélène rambled to herself and rubbed her forearms. “Honestly speaking, I’m performing better now because I didn’t want to be seen as the same hussy I was weeks ago. At the ice-cream parlor, when I said that I wanted people to like me for who I was, I mean it. And I’m trying my best. I really am.”

“Is this… Is this your confession?” Marya asked, and Hélène nodded with the broadest grin on her face.

“Yeah. And I’m quite happy you confessed first. I’m sick of making the first move,” Hélène complained and rolled her eyes, causing Marya to laugh.

“And what happens next, hm? After this?” Marya asked for she was unexperienced with such situations.

Hélène looked up and her grin stretched. “A date! A proper date. The outing at the ice-cream parlor is not considered a date. It was under friendly circumstances.”

“W-what do you suggest?” Marya asked, stumbling over her words like a klutz.

“At a restaurant. A nice place to eat then a walk in the park. Or we could go to the movies,” Hélène suggested giddily.

“Sounds like a plan to me. When?”

“This weekend. I’ll come pick you up at noon.”

Marya could barely respond when Hélène planted an innocent kiss on her lips and her body was on the verge of shutting down. She heard a ‘goodnight’ and some broken French then watched as Hélène took off down the path from whence she came. She gave a delayed wave of her hand and stumbled past the gates of the apartment. She carried her wobbling legs up the stairs and into her apartment unit where she collapsed to her knees. She coughed out an exhale and sucked in some air. She did not realize that she had been holding her breath ever since Hélène departed and the way her chest hurt screamed at her for reacting so stupidly. She remained on the floor and lowered herself on her back to lay down. She smiled to herself, smiled thankfully for how kind God was to her for blessing her. Oh, what love could do to someone. It was a marvelous thing but it eroded people like acid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extremely cheesy, I know but I can't help it. With how inexperienced Marya is (and myself), things get extremely cheesy like that :)


End file.
